Fathers Day
by Old Time Fan
Summary: Frank's been keeping a doozy of a secret from Carmine and Laverne. Father-to-be Lenny finds out what it is and agrees to keep a lid on it, but will events beyond both their control drag it out into the open?
1. Default Chapter

Fathers Day

_Chapter 1_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. I have rights to nothing. I am merely a fan. Please don't sue me._

"You sure you ain't gonna have that thing right now?" asked Squiggy, eyeing Laverne's bulging stomach with obvious concern.

"No. That _thing_, as you so nicely put it, still has a few weeks to spend in the Hotel Laverne." She rubbed her abdomen and groaned. "Although I wouldn't mind if the little bugger wanted to make an early appearance."

Lenny chuckled, then quickly glanced away at his wife's dirty look. "Sorry, hon. That's my kid in there. He or she is gettin' free eats and free room and board. I know I'd stay put."

Laverne sighed, then struggled to her feet. It took her two or three tries to rise from their table at the Pizza Bowl Too. "Where you heading?" Lenny asked.

"Bathroom. Again."

"Geeze, you're gonna whiz the kid right on out, you keep doing that," Squiggy warned.

"Yeah? You try havin' an eight pound weight tap dancin' on your bladder round the clock, see how much control you have!" snapped Laverne.

Lenny nearly snorted beer out of his nose as his wife waddled off in the direction of the Ladies' Room. Squiggy raised an eyebrow at him. "She always this cranky?"

"Are you kiddin? That's downright merry, these days." He shook his head, smiling. "Vernie's just havin' a tough time, you know, being all heavy and water-retainey and stuff. You know, she was all right after the morning sickness went away, but now, eight months in, she just wants the kid out already. So do I, I guess. I wanna see what it is."

"Yeah? You takin' any action on that outcome?" asked Squiggy.

"What, like, a bet?"

"Yeah, like, a bet. Boy or girl, c'mon! What do you say?"

Lenny considered it. "Yeah, okay, that's cool. I'll take…boy. No, girl. No, boy!"

"Which is it?" Squiggy demanded, plunking his wallet on the table. "Boy, girl, or other…decide?"

"Other?" asked Lenny, horrified. "Is other a possibility? The doctor never mentioned other!"

Squiggy sighed. "Fine, fine, we'll stick to boy or girl. That's like, almost, fifty-fifty odds anyway."

"Okay. I'll take boy."

"You sure, now?'

"Yeah…well…no. Yeah. I'm sure. Boy."

"Boy it is!" crowed Squiggy. "Ha, I am so takin' your money! How much you bettin', anyway?"

Lenny pulled out his wallet. "A buck?"

"What? Don't be stupid, dummy! A buck ain't worth the effort."

"Two bucks?"

"Ten!"

"Ten? No way! I got a kid to feed soon, Squig!"

Squiggy groaned and leaned back in his chair. "Fine. Five then."

Lenny nodded. "Okay. Five on…what did I say again?"

"Boy!" snapped Squiggy. "As in, boy are you a loser, because that's a girl in that there oven!"

"How do you know?"

"I can tell," said Squiggy. "My old man used to win almost every baby bet he made, and when I was a kid, he taught me how. He told me that if the pregnant lady's belly is the only part that's fat, then it's a boy and if she's fat all over, it's a girl. And your wife, Lenny my friend, is fat all over!"

"Hey, watch what you say about Laverne!" Lenny warned. "She ain't fat, she's full of baby! It's different."

"Yeah, so's my father!" laughed Squiggy. He looked thoughtful, then added, "Different, I mean, not fat."

Laverne rejoined them, dropping heavily back into her chair. "What'd I miss?"

"Your hubby here…." began Squiggy.

"Nothing! Nothing at all," Lenny smiled and took her hand. "Say, don't we have a dinner date at Shirley and Carmine's tonight?"

"Oh, right," said Laverne, not looking happy.

"What's wrong? Don't you wanna go?" asked Lenny.

"Oh, sure. Well, yeah, I mean, I'd like to see Carmine and Shirley and that cute little Lucy. It's just that, you know, Shirley…."

"Right," said Lenny, nodding in understanding. "She's gonna cook."

"And expect us to eat it," Laverne said, swallowing hard.

"Maybe Carmine'll convince her to order Chinese?"

"Maybe. Hopefully." Laverne rubbed her tummy again. "Maybe a little spicy food will convince junior here to come out a little sooner. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Lenny stood up and extended his hand to Laverne. "C'mon. I'll call Carmine before we go over and drop a big ol' hint about ordering out. See ya later, Squig?"

Squiggy looked up at him. Lenny was startled to see how unhappy he suddenly appeared. "Squig? You okay?"

"Huh?" Squiggy gave his head a brisk shake and waved a hand at him. "Me? Oh, yeah, sure, I'm tops. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You just looked a little down there for a second."

"It's your imagination," Squiggy insisted. He put a wide smile on his face that Lenny just didn't buy. "Go on, you two crazy married kids, go have a nice night with those other, settled folks. Me, I got some fun to be had. You remember fun, right, Len? It's what single guys get that you don't no more!"

"Yeah. Right," said Lenny. He smiled uncertainly at Squiggy and waved. "You take care. See ya around?"

"Right. You betcha!" Squiggy tilted his chair backward and looked away.

Lenny started to say something else, then thought better of it and led his wife outside. Once they were in the car, Lenny asked, "Did you notice anything weird about Squiggy today?"

Laverne burst out laughing. "As opposed to every other day of the week? No, why do you ask?"

"Well, he just seemed – I don't know – a little sad back there. You think something's wrong?"

Laverne stretched. "I think maybe he's a little lonely. You know, Rhonda's been off shooting that movie on location for a month now, and he doesn't have a close relationship with anyone in his own family. Really, the only family he's ever had was you and the rest of us, to a lesser degree."

"You think he misses us? Me?" Lenny was touched. "Wow. Most of the time, I think he can't stand me. You really think he wishes we was hangin' out again all the time?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. But that's just the way it goes. Some guys grow up and get married — not necessarily in that order – and some don't."

"Still. Maybe Squig would like a little company." Lenny nodded resolutely as he started the car. "Yeah, a guy's day out, just me and Squig and Carmine. That'd be swell."

"Sure," shrugged Laverne. "I'll put up my swollen feet and eat a box of Mallomars with Shirl one day this weekend and you guys can go out and have fun."

Lenny looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Are you serious, or is this one of those tests that when I go ahead and do what you say is okay, it ain't really okay and you'll hit me with a heavy object when I try to leave the apartment?"

"No, Len, I'm serious," she said, grinning. "Go on, have some guy time with Squiggy. After all, once the baby arrives, you won't get the chance again for a long time."

"Right. Okay, thanks. I'll do it!" Feeling a little better, Lenny drove off in the direction of Laurel Vista.

"Lucy, honey, did you set the table?" asked Shirley.

"Yes, Aunt Shirley."

"And did you wash your hands like I asked?"

"Yes, Aunt Shirley."

"And did you tell your father to change into something presentable before our guests arrive?"

"Yes, Aunt Shirley," said Carmine, walking into the kitchen. Lucy giggled as he tickled her from behind. "I told my slob of a father to dress like a human because he's certainly not capable of doing that without his wife telling him!"

Shirley sighed heavily, but her dark eyes were sparkling as they turned to him. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. But you were looking a little slovenly, dear."

"I was rotating the tires on the car," said Carmine. "How'd you expect me to dress to do that, in a tux?" He walked over to his wife and picked her up in his arms. She protested mildly, but he ignored her. "So how am I now? Am I presentable?"

Shirley pointed to the floor and he put her back down. She walked around him, checking out all sides, before pronouncing, "You look very nice."

"Thanks." Carmine looked over at his daughter and winked. "Did you see that, what she did right there? That was all just an excuse so she could check out my behind."

"Carmine!" Shirley exclaimed in mock horror. "In front of the child!"

Lucy laughed, a musical sound that filled Carmine with joy. He sometimes still couldn't believe how completely he loved the little girl, after less than a year of knowing her. At first, he had feared that looking at her would remind him of Lucille and how close she came to destroying his life with Shirley. But all he saw when he looked at Lucy was a sweet, innocent child, his child. And that was all that mattered.

The phone rang, startling Carmine from his reverie. He picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Carmine Ragusa?" asked a female voice.

"Last time I checked, yeah. And this is?"

"Mr. Ragusa, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

"What is it, sweetheart?" called Shirley, coming into the living room.

Carmine shook his head, pointing to the phone. "Okay," he said uncertainly into the receiver.

"Well, it's about your father."

Carmine's heart sank. "Oh, Lord. What'd he do now?"

After a moment, the woman's voice said, "He had a heart attack."

"Oh."

"Sir? Don't you want to know how he is?"

"I guess. Sure."

"It was touch and go at first, but now his condition is stable. He's been asking for you."

"No kidding," said Carmine.

There was a pause, then the voice went on. "He's at Milwaukee General Hospital. We thought you should know…."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." Carmine hung up the phone. He sat and stared at it as though it might bite.

Shirley sat down beside him. "There's something wrong, isn't there? I can tell by the look on your face. Who died?"

"My father," said Carmine. Seeing the stricken look on her face, he quickly added, "I mean, the bad news is about my father. He's not dead. Well, not yet anyway."

"Oh, Carmine!" exclaimed Shirley. She took his hand. "I'm so sorry, honey. When did it happen?"

"Um, I don't know."

"Well, is he all right?"

"I'm not sure."

"Carmine! Didn't they tell you anything?"

"They told me he had a heart attack." Carmine leaned back against the sofa and crossed his arms. "For some reason, they say he was asking for me."

"Of course he was! Carmine…you make no sense to me sometimes." Shirley took a deep breath. "Where is he now, do you know that at least?"

"Yep, that I got. Milwaukee General Hospital."

"So, when are you leaving?"

"Leaving where?"

"Here…Carmine!"

"What?"

"You _are_ going to visit your father in the hospital, aren't you?"

He looked at her face, searching her flashing eyes for the right answer. "I am?" he tried.

Lucy patted his arm. "I'm sorry, daddy." She looked up at him with her large, brown eyes. "Are you sad about grandpa?"

Carmine flinched at hearing her refer to the man in such a familiar way. "Lucy, would you mind going upstairs for a few minutes? I need to talk to Auntie alone. Okay?"

"Okay," Lucy stood up and started to leave, then paused. She went back to the sofa and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you," she said. Then, she ran upstairs.

"Do you want Lucy and me to go with you to see him?" Shirley offered.

"Oh, God no!" exclaimed Carmine. "I don't want either of you anywhere near my father, ever!"

"Carmine? What is wrong with you!"

"What do you mean?"

"I…I don't know…you're just taking this very strangely, that's all."

Carmine sighed. "What do you expect me to do? Burst into tears? Drop on my knees and pray for his speedy recovery? Shirley, I don't like the man. He's a hateful drunk who treated his family like garbage. Just because he's sick now doesn't mean we're suddenly close. Believe me, if our roles were reversed, he wouldn't pull his ass out of his easy chair to make sure I was still breathing."

Shirley's mouth dropped open. She stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "I can't believe I'm hearing this," she whispered. "How can you say that, how can you _feel_ that, about your own father? I know he has his faults, and you were never close, but still! Do you want him to die with all this unresolved between you?"

Carmine shrugged. "I'm sorry, Shirl, but I'm not like you. Your dad can drink and whore around and ignore you your whole life without making you love him one bit less. I'm sure if he had a heart attack, you'd run to his side and nurse him like you'd spent every day for the past decade together. Me, I'm not like that."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had gone too far. "Just you leave my father out of this!" warned Shirley. "For all his faults, and he has lots of them, he's never hurt me or my mother and I know he still loves me. I certainly would be at his side if he needed me, because I wouldn't even exist if it weren't for him. Just like you wouldn't without your father."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's true, and your father actually does seem to love you, even if he has a weird way of showing it. But _my_ father doesn't love me, and that feeling's mutual. So why go and pretend that I care now? He won't buy it and I won't mean it. What's the point?"

"Carmine, the point is…well, it's just the right thing to do! You don't turn your back on family when they're in need and you don't let a sick old man die without saying goodbye to his only son. And before you tell me how much he doesn't care, just think, think really hard, back to when you were little. Can you honestly tell me that he never did anything for you, never showed you any affection at all?"

Carmine sighed. "Shirl, I know you don't want to believe this, because you never want to see the dark side of people. That's one of the things I love about you so much. But the truth is, I can't remember my father ever once treating me with anything close to love. The only person who has ever showed me anything near a father's affection is Frank DeFazio."

Shirley pursed her lips. "Well, then, that's the saddest thing I've ever heard. I mean, your dad must have wanted a child at some point or you wouldn't be here."

Carmine stood up and started to pace. "Shirl, don't be naïve. Lots of couples have kids without planning or even wanting them." He glanced pointedly at the stairs. "The only thing I'm convinced wasn't accidental about my family was that I was an only child."

"What about this?" Shirley held up her left hand and pointed at her ring finger. "Your dad gave this to you, your mother's ring, for our wedding! Why would he do that if he didn't care about you at all?"

"One decent act doesn't fix the rest, Shirl." Carmine could hear anger in his voice, but wasn't exactly sure for whom it was meant. "I know this sounds really cold to you, but I don't give a rat's patoot whether the old coot lives or dies. Sorry if that makes me a bad person, but it's the truth!"

"Then I'm sorry too," said Shirley. She stood up and started back into the kitchen. She paused and turned back to him. "Carmine, the problem is that you _aren't_ a bad person. But you're going to feel like one if you let your father die without even trying to reach out to him." Then she left the room.

Carmine dropped back onto the sofa and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. Reach out to that selfish, abusive old son of a bitch? he thought. I'd rather hug Squiggy.

"Oh, geeze, I'm sorry to hear that," said Lenny. "So I guess you won't be around this weekend, huh?"

Carmine shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Lenny wondered if he'd missed something. "You just said your dad had a heart attack. So, that means you're headin' off to Milwaukee. Right?"

"No," said Carmine, staring at his shoes. "It doesn't."

"Oh. Wait. Huh?"

"Ah, c'mon, Len. I thought you of all people would understand." Carmine stood up and started pacing back and forth. Lenny hated when he did that; it made him dizzy to watch. "You actually met my father! Why would I be running home to see him just because…."

"…he's about to die?" Lenny finished. He shrugged. "I dunno. I guess because that's what people do?"

Carmine stopped and glared down at him on the sofa. "Why? Why do people suddenly decide they give a crap about someone else just because they get sick? He didn't just sprout wings and a halo, you know. He's just suffering the effects of living a lousy life!"

"Right," said Lenny, slowly. "I suppose that's true. But how many fathers you got, Carmine? Me, I have one, or at least I _think_ I still do. It's been awhile…."

"Yeah, and you had a mother that got on a bus and left you when you were in kindergarten," said Carmine. "Are you telling me, Len, that if she turned up out of the blue tomorrow, and she was in the hospital, that you'd go and see her?"

Lenny thought it over. Then he said, "Yeah. I think I would. 'Cause at least I'd have the chance to ask her why she left. Maybe find out what I did – or coulda done different

- anyway, we ain't talkin' about my mother."

"No, you're right. We're talking about my father."

"No. Not even. Really, we're talkin' about you, Carmine."

"Me?" Carmine arched his eyebrows. "How do you figure?"

"Well, your old man's a real stinker, no question. Sometimes, though, when you think you ain't gonna see another day, even a real stinker might want to change. Or at least apologize."

"Apologize?" Carmine laughed. "You mean, to me? You think my old man would actually say...no chance, Len. No way in hell!"

Lenny shrugged. "I'm just sayin.' I know how I felt, back a couple years ago, when you and me were trapped under Cowboy Bill's. I seem to recall we made some big changes in our lives after that."

"Yeah, but that was different," argued Carmine. "I didn't hurt Shirley for years and then decide to apologize. Well, maybe I had hurt her a little, with those other girls." He dropped back onto the sofa again. "I guess it took something life-threatening to feel sorry about it, too."

"So don't you think it's possible your dad is sorry now? I mean, he kinda took a step toward you by givin' you that ring before your wedding. Maybe, if you take a little step toward him, he'll meet you halfway."

Carmine shook his head.

"Okay, well, what do I know?" asked Lenny. "Look, forget it. He's _your_ father; it's up to you. I should keep my snout out of it. All I was really gonna ask you is if you wanted to go away for the weekend with Squig and me, do a little fishing, have a few beers. I guess if you're not goin' to Milwaukee, you're still welcome."

Carmine turned to face him, his dark brown eyes haunted. "What if he doesn't?" he said softly.

Lenny rewound their conversation in his mind. "What if who doesn't what?"

"My father. What if he doesn't apologize? What if he wants one last chance to tell me what a waste I am? Because that's probably what would happen if I went."

"Which is why you're not going."

"Right. If he really isn't sorry and this is the end for him…for us…then I'd rather just not know."

Lenny reached over and put his hand on Carmine's shoulder. "But if he is, and you don't go, you'll never know that either."

Carmine let out a deep breath. "I'm going to have to do this, aren't I, Len?"

Lenny nodded. "I think so. Yeah."

"Damn." Carmine leaned back on the couch and covered his face with his hands. "Okay," he said, his voice muffled. He let his hands drop back into his lap and stared at them like a smacked puppy. "Okay. I'll go."

"Good. Well, mostly good," said Lenny. "I'm sorry you won't be joining us this weekend."

"Me, too," muttered Carmine. He managed a weak smile. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wish I were going to be spending two days away with you, Squiggy, and a bunch of fish instead."

"Maybe next time," said Lenny. "Hm, maybe I should ask Frank to join us since you can't. You know, a little father-in-law, son-in-law bonding."

"That's a nice idea," said Carmine. "Frank likes to fish. I don't know how much he likes Squiggy, but you never know. The fish might win out."

"Dinner's on!" called Shirley from the kitchen.

Laverne waddled out and dropped down in the side chair with a sigh. Lenny leaned over and whispered, "How bad is it?"

Laverne glanced surreptitiously at the kitchen, then whispered back, "It's pasta. A little mushy, but mostly harmless."

"Oh, thank goodness," sighed Lenny. Then he gave Carmine an apologetic glance.

"Don't worry about it," Carmine said with a grin. "I've got no illusions about my wife's cooking skills." He patted his stomach. "There's a reason I stay trim, and it isn't just exercise!"

"Where are you all?" asked Shirley, sticking her head into the room. Her cheeks were dotted with red specks. "The sauce popped all over me again, Vernie. I wish it wouldn't do that!"

"I told ya, Shirl, you can't let it boil! Simmer – that thing where you keep the lid on the pot – remember?"

"But then it takes so long," whined Shirley.

"And has flavor," Carmine said under his breath.

"Yeah, wouldn't want that to happen," chuckled Lenny.

Laverne shot both of them a look that was half-warning, half-agreement, then held her arms out to Lenny. "Help me up, sweetie?"

"Sure thing." Lenny rose, grasped her forearms, and hauled her to her feet. As she walked back to the kitchen, Lenny saw Carmine watching her with a pained expression.

"Aw, don't feel bad," Lenny said as he and Carmine started to follow. "You and Shirl will have a little Ragu of your own soon enough."

"Huh? Oh, I know. I'm not worried about that," said Carmine. "It's just…."

"Yeah? Just what?"

"You really love your kid already. I can see it, every time you look at Laverne, or pat her tummy. It's written all over you, Len."

Lenny grinned. "Sure, I do. What kind of guy doesn't love his own kid?"

"Exactly," said Carmine. He started to say something else, then just shook his head.

For the rest of the evening, Lenny wondered what Carmine was getting at. But he never finished the thought and Lenny felt too badly for his friend to push it.

"So, Pop, you gonna join us tomorrow?" Lenny asked, helping Frank clear a table at the Pizza Bowl Too.

Frank sighed. "Lenny, it's real nice of you to ask. But me and Squiggy for a whole weekend?" He shuddered, then wandered off into the restaurant kitchen.

"Aw, he ain't that bad, once you get to know him," insisted Lenny, following him.

"I know him plenty! All I want to know, I know," snapped Frank. "Look, he's not really a bad boy underneath it all."

"That's right."

"But there's a whole lotta stuff to get under and I just don't feel like working that hard on my day off." Frank tossed a stack of dishes into the sink.

Lenny wondered how he learned to do that without breaking them all. He lowered his pile more gingerly to the counter in the big kitchen. "Okay, I guess I understand. It's just that Squig's been kinda down lately. Lonely. I thought if he was around some guys, knew that he still had buddies, it might cheer him up."

"I'm too old to be a buddy!" said Frank. "What about Carmine? Why don't you drag him along to buddy up with Squiggy?"

"I was gonna, but he's gotta go to Milwaukee."

"Milwaukee?" asked Frank, wiping his hands on a striped dishtowel. "What for?"

"His father. He had a heart attack. Carmine's gonna go visit him."

"Why?" asked Frank.

Startled, Lenny didn't say anything for a moment. "Um, because his father had a heart attack," he repeated slowly.

"So Carmine's actually gonna waste his time and money to visit Tony?" Frank shook his head. "That boy's got too big a heart for his own good!"

Lenny scratched his head. "You're kinda soundin' like you think he's making a mistake."

"Of course he is! That old bastard, he don't deserve a boy like Carmine, never did!" Frank began waving his hands, his voice rising. "Tony Ragusa is a no-account, lowdown, waste of flesh! Always was, always will be!"

"Yeah, but," said Lenny, backing away slightly. "I mean, if he's gonna die, don't it seem right that Carmine…."

"If he dies, he'll be doin' Carmine a favor!" roared Frank. "Not to mention the rest of the world!"

"I take it you don't care for Carmine's old man much," said Lenny, retreating until his back was pressed against the big oven. It was a little warm for comfort, but he stayed put.

Frank crossed the room and stood right under his nose. His thick eyebrows were knit together like angry caterpillars fighting over a leaf. "Care for him?" Frank said very softly, in a way that was more frightening than when he shouted. "_Care_ for him? No, Lenny, I more than don't care for Tony Ragusa, I _hate_ the man. I hate him from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. I hate him for what he did to his wife Maria, for what he did to Carmine, for what he did to…." Frank broke off abruptly and turned away.

"Did to…who?" asked Lenny, intrigued. He inched away from the oven. "Pop, did Tony Ragusa do somethin' to you?"

Frank shook his head. "Never mind. It was a long time ago. None of that matters now." He turned and faced Lenny again, his expression softening. "Look, Len, I ain't mad at you. Just hearin' about Tony, it reminds me of some old, bad stuff. If Carmine wants to visit his sick father, then that's his choice."

"Well, it wasn't his first instinct," admitted Lenny. "I kinda talked him into it."

"You what?" Frank shouted 

Lenny winced and found himself back against the oven again. "I…I…."

"Why'd you do that? You wanna see your friend miserable?"

"I…no! I just thought…you know…it was the right thing…."

"Right thing?" Frank's arms were waving again. "The right thing for Carmine was to leave home and never go back in the first place! The right thing would be for him to forget that he was raised by that bastard!"

"But what if Tony dies?" cried Lenny. "I mean, the guy's his _father_."

"No, he isn't!" shouted Frank.

Stunned, Lenny just stared back at his father-in-law. Frank's mouth dropped open and he slapped his hand over it, as though trying to catch his own words. They stood there for a good long time, just looking at each other.

"F…forget I said that," said Frank, turning around and hurrying over to the sink. He began washing the dishes with unprovoked urgency.

"Wait a minute," said Lenny, crossing over to his side. "Did you just say…?"

"Nothin.' I didn't say nothin.'"

"But you did. You said…."

"It was a mistake. Let it go, Len."

"I don't think I can," said Lenny. He put his hand on Frank's arm and stopped him from scrubbing the pattern off a dish.

Frank heaved a sigh and reluctantly turned to face him. "Lenny, sometimes my temper gets ahead of my good sense. Please, son, let it go."

Lenny pressed his lips together, then shook his head. "No. Pop, you just said that Tony isn't Carmine's father. What made you say somethin' like that?"

Frank's shoulders slumped forward. "Because he ain't, Len. Tony ain't Carmine's father. Not really."

"Oh, my God," said Lenny. His mind was spinning. "Is that…is that why…?"

"Is that why Tony treated Carmine like dirt and called his own wife a slut and made both their lives a living hell? Pretty much, yeah. Besides the fact that he was just plain mean and rotten."

"So Tony knows. But Carmine, he don't, does he?"

"No, Len, of course not! And you can't tell him!" Frank grabbed Lenny by the shoulders. "Promise me, you'll keep this between us."

"But why?" asked Lenny, getting more and more confused. "I mean, this is kinda good news for Carmine, isn't it? The old man he don't like and never wants to be like ain't his old man after all. Why not tell him? In fact, why haven't you, long before now?"

Frank hung his head. "Don't think I haven't wanted to, especially when that boy was comin' to my house just so he could get one decent meal in peace. Josephine, God rest her soul, she might have understood. But…."

"But?"

"Len, look. Carmine may not have ever been close to Tony, but he adored Marie. Put her on a pedestal, like all good Italian boys do to their mammas. If I'da told him that she broke her marriage vows, that he was someone else's son, it'd have hurt him terribly. And I didn't want to do that to him. The s.o.b that was raising him made him feel lousy about himself and his mother every damned day. I just couldn't add to that." Frank looked at him with pleading eyes. "You can understand that, right?"

"I guess," said Lenny, not convinced. "But Carmine's a grown man now. I think he could handle it just fine. In fact, I'm sure he'd be plenty relieved to know. Say, if Tony ain't his father, who is?" Lenny tapped his chin with his forefinger. "Come to think of it, how do you know all this? It ain't like Carmine's mother would've told everyone that she –

you know. Vo-de-oh-doed behind her husband's back." Lenny gave a short laugh. "I mean, except for the guy she vo-de-oh-doed with."

Frank lowered his eyes and let his hands drop to his sides.

Lenny looked at him curiously. Then his eyes widened as a flash lit up his brain. "Oh! Oh, no way! You?" he cried.

"Shhhhh!" hissed Frank, clamping one large, meaty hand over Lenny's mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

****

_In which Lenny makes a very big discovery…._

Lenny pushed his hand away and took a step back, holding his chest. "You?" he repeated in a loud whisper. "You're Carmine's real father?"

"Yes!" snapped Frank, his eyes shining. "Yes, all right! You happy now? I'm his father!" He paused and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was choked with emotion. "I'm Carmine's father. My God, I don't think I've ever said those words out loud before."

Lenny realized his own mouth was still hanging open. He closed it and dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees as he sat there absorbing it all. Finally, he said, "You gotta tell him the truth."

"Are you kidding?" asked Frank, leaning back against the counter. "How is that supposed to work? 'Hey, Carmine, here's your pizza. Oh and I forgot to mention for thirty years, I'm your real father?'" He shook his head.

"I don't know how you're supposed to say something like that," said Lenny. "But you've got to figure it out. Because if you don't, I will."

Frank shot him a desperate, angry look. "You wouldn't!"

Lenny nodded. "I would. I will. It ain't right, you keepin' this from him all this time. In fact, it ain't right at all!" Lenny rose to his feet, surprised by his own, sudden anger. "Why didn't you take him away from Tony when he was a kid? If you knew, and Marie and Tony knew, that Carmine belonged to you, why didn't you get him the hell away from that monster? You could've raised him as your own! You _should_ have, Frank!"

"Don't you think I thought about that?" Frank replied, pounding the counter. "Don't you think I wanted to claim him? But, Len, I had a wife and baby girl of my own to think about! As much of a scandal as havin' a baby with some other guy's wife would be today, it was unthinkable thirty years ago! Marie and I, we would have destroyed two families, plus wrecked our son's life. Carmine would have been a bastard in the Biblical sense, and that was a real stigma back then. Tony would have thrown him and Marie out on the street if everyone knew the truth. He only stayed with Marie to hide his own shame. The way we handled it…at least I could help my boy a little. And I have, over the years. God knows, I've tried." Frank reached up and wiped away a tear.

Lenny looked away, embarrassed. "Okay, look, I'm sorry. I got no right to judge you over somethin' you chose to do a long time ago. But your wife is gone and Marie's gone. They don't care about reputation or hurt feelings no more."

"Laverne will," said Frank softly. "Don't you think it'd break her heart to know that I cheated on her mamma?"

"And fathered one of her best friends. Oh, geeze," groaned Lenny. He slapped his forehead. "I didn't think about that. She'll be floored!"

"In her condition, son, does that seem like a good idea to you?" asked Frank.

"No," said Lenny, defeated. "No, that wouldn't be good for her or for our baby."

"So, you're not gonna tell her, are you? Or Carmine?"

"No, I ain't," said Lenny. He glared at Frank. "Don't think you're off the hook, though. I still think Carmine has a right to know, and even though it'll hurt her at first, so does Laverne. Our baby's due in a month. After little baby Kosnowski makes his appearance, I'm gonna give you one last chance to tell them yourself!"

"Or you will," said Frank, his voice much smaller than usual.

"Or I will," Lenny confirmed.

Frank nodded. "Okay. After the baby is born. At least I'll have time to try to come up with the right words." Frank met Lenny's gaze, his eyes filled with regret. "I loved my wife, Len. I just want you to know that. It was one time with Marie, just one time."

"Sometimes, that's all it takes," sighed Lenny. He felt very tired all of a sudden. "Look, about this weekend…."

"It's okay. You and Squiggy go have fun."

Lenny nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen. "Okay, Pop. I'll see ya later."

"Yeah," muttered Frank.

Once out of the restaurant, Lenny leaned back against a tree and gazed up at the sun-filled California sky. How was he going to look Carmine in the eye, knowing that the man's whole life was one big lie? Worse yet, how was he going to hold Laverne in his arms and not tell her that one of their best friends was actually her half-brother? That her father had betrayed her lost, sainted mother in the worst possible way?

"I ain't no good at secrets," groaned Lenny, banging the back of his head against the tree. "I'm gonna screw up and then they'll know and the whole world world's just gonna explode."

"The world's gonna explode?" came an eager, familiar voice from below. Lenny looked down and saw Squiggy grinning up at him. "When? Can I watch?"

"No!" snapped Lenny. He sighed. "Sorry, forget it. Nothing's really blowin' up."

"Aw," said Squiggy, looking disappointed. "I always miss the fun stuff."

Lenny gave himself a shake then managed a smile, "So, you lookin' forward to this weekend? It looks like it's just you and me and the fish."

"Oh, right. This weekend. Well, actually, it looks like just you and you and the fish, my friend."

"What?"

"No, who."

"Huh?"

"Let me explain, my tall, simple man," said Squiggy, smiling from ear to ear. "I got me a surprise yesterday."

"Must've been a good one, judging by your face," said Lenny. Good, he could use some happy news. "What's going on?"

"My old man's invited me to Milwaukee this weekend, on him. Sent me an airline ticket and directions to his fine hotel and everything!"

"_Your_ father?" asked Lenny, incredulously. "Helmut Squigman, your father?"

"Yes, yes, I said that, didn't I? Check it out." Squiggy handed him a manila envelope.

Lenny opened it and saw a letter, wrapped around a plane ticket. He opened the piece of stationery and read it aloud. "Dear Andy, Daddy's about to hit the big time. I want my favorite son by my side when my ship comes in. Use this ticket and come see me to find out all about it. Love, Mr. Helmut Squigman, Esquire."

"See?"

"Um, yeah. Wow, I guess this is great, Squig. Congratulations."

"You don't sound too enthused," said Squiggy, taking back the envelope and letter. "Look, I know me and my Dad had some harsh words last time he came out here, and I ain't seen him much my whole life. But now that things are finally goin' his way, he thought to contact me first. That's gotta mean somethin', right?"

Lenny looked into his friend's hope-filled eyes and smiled. "Of course it does. It means he cares about his son. That's really nice to hear for a change."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Look, Squig, it's great. And never mind this weekend. We can go fishin' any old time. You just go and have a great time with your father. Just remember not to give him any money, okay?"

"I know, I know," said Squiggy, waving his hand. "Hey, he's payin' for my ticket and everything else, right? He ain't after money, not this time. I know it."

"Sure. Look, I gotta get home. Vernie's expecting me."

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later." With that, Squiggy sauntered off into the Pizza Bowl Too.

It's nice to see him happy again, thought Lenny. Too bad it ain't gonna last. Whenever Helmut Squigman stepped into Squiggy's life, it always turned out the same. A day or two of fun and happiness, then the other shoe dropped. He either hit Squiggy up for money or tried to get him involved in stupid get-rich schemes, or just plain left without warning. Maybe this time would be different, but Lenny wasn't convinced.

"I guess I came out pretty well in the father sweepstakes," he realized. "At least my dad did what he could for me." Lenny stuck his hands in the pockets of his Lone Wolf jacket and walked slowly back to his car.

He paused with his hand on the door handle, as another thought started to swim to the surface of his brain. "Wait. Carmine's father wants to see him before he kicks off. I thought maybe it was to make amends. But now I know he ain't Carmine's real father. And he _knows_ he ain't Carmine's real father. So he's probably not gonna apologize for jack. Which means, the only thing he'd want to tell to tell Carmine on his deathbed is…oh, sweet Lord!" Lenny spun around and sprinted back into the Pizza Bowl Too.

"Frank! Frank! Frank!" Lenny shouted, careening through the restaurant. He whipped around the corner, slipped on something wet in the kitchen, and fell flat on his back.

Startled, Frank whirled around, clutching his chest. He stood over Lenny, eyes so wide his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. "What? What the hell is goin' on?" he exclaimed.

Lenny struggled to catch his breath. When he was finally able to get a word out, he wheezed, "Carmine's. Father. Gonna. Tell. Truth."

Frank's face dropped. "What did you say?"

Lenny tried again. "Carmine's father's gonna tell him the truth!"

"No," said Frank. He shook his head. "No. He wouldn't. Why now? It'd just hurt his…hurt Carmine."

"Right," said Lenny, sitting up slowly. He pressed a hand against the small of his back. "Which is what he's done his whole miserable life. What better way to cap it off than dump something like this on the guy, right before he dies and avoids the fallout?"

"Oh. Oh! Ohhhhhh." Frank buried his face in his hands. "Len, what am I gonna do?"

"Stop him," said Lenny, rising to his feet painfully. "We both are."


	3. Chapter 3

Fathers Day

(Part3 of 4. In this episode, another father has a secret to reveal. But is it true?)

Carmine shifted in his seat, struggling to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. He still had three hours before the red eye he'd caught to Milwaukee touched down and this was probably his last chance to rest before getting off the plane and going to the hospital. But it was almost impossible to curl up in the tiny coach seat, plus some idiot behind him was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Unable to take it any longer, Carmine turned around and said in a loud whisper, "Keep it down, would you?" Then his eyes focused on the face of the snoring man and he said, "Squiggy? Is that you?"

Squiggy opened one eye and said, "Mommy?"

"No, thank God," replied Carmine. "Squig, what in the heck are you doing here?"

Squiggy's other eye opened. He raised his head and peered at Carmine over the seat back. "Carmine? What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to Milwaukee."

"What a coinky-dink!" said Squiggy. "Me, too. I'm gonna see my old man for the weekend. You?"

"The same, actually."

"You're goin' to seem my dad, too? Why?"

Carmine groaned. "Nice talking to you, Squig. Good night." He turned back, leaned his cheek against the tiny window beside him, and closed his eyes.

A rustling beside him told Carmine he wasn't going to get off that easily. He opened his eyes and saw Squiggy was now sitting next to him. "Hello," Squiggy said.

"Yeah?" said Carmine.

"So, I guess it's your own old man your gonna go see," said Squiggy. "Why? I thought you, you know, hated his guts."

Carmine sighed. "He had a heart attack."

"Oh. So you're gonna point and laugh at him in his hospital bed?"

Carmine cringed. "You're a messed up individual, you know that? No, I'm going because he wants to see me and I might not get another chance."

Squiggy shrugged. "Hey, whatever. You know, if my father treated me like your old man treated you, I'd point and laugh at his sick old self, too."

"Your father _did_ treat you like mine treated me," Carmine reminded him. "He ignored you and abandoned your family over and over again."

"Yeah, but he never called me names. Only my mom did that. And he never took a swing at me."

Carmine looked away. "My father didn't hit me. Much."

"Oh, no? Then what about that time you came to school with sunglasses on and the teacher made you take 'em off, and you had that big shiner? There wasn't a guy stupid enough in Filmore High to take a swing at Carmine Ragusa, so…."

"That was the only bad one," said Carmine, staring intently out the window. "I got between him and my mother. After that, I took up boxing and he never tried it again."

Squiggy cleared his throat. "I'm just sayin', I'd understand you wantin' a little revenge."

"What? You think I should pop him one on his deathbed?" Carmine chuckled, but felt a little sick inside at how appealing the idea was. "I'm not going to kick him while he's down, Squig. I'm going to…well, I'm not sure what I'm going for. But it isn't for that."

Squiggy shrugged. "Whatever you say. Look, me and my old man, we're gonna do the town while I'm there. Maybe when you're done making nice with the sadist, you can join us at a strip bar or somethin.'"

"Gee, that's really, um, swell of you, Squig. But I think I'd rather watch paint peel in my hotel room."

"Sure," sneered Squiggy. "God forbid you should spend any time breathin' the same air as me. You know, I remember a time when you felt the same way about Len. Funny how easy it was for you to get over that."

"Lenny saved my life," Carmine reminded him.

"Oh? Hm, I seem to remember somebody…who was that, now…who donated blood to you when you was nearly empty."

Carmine sighed. "I know, Squig, and I've thanked you for that before. But Len and me, we kind of developed a certain bond. He's been a really good friend to me for the past couple of years, not just that one time. You, on the other hand, sicced my psycho ex-girlfriend on me for a few bucks and almost got me sent to jail!"

"Hey, I said I was sorry about that! Besides, I used my expert investigatative skills to get you outta that, didn't I?"

"What are you getting at with all this anyway, Squig?"

"Nothin.'" Squiggy snapped. "Nothin' at all. Look, I just extended an invite, that's all. It's no skin off my eye if you ain't interested!"

Carmine shook his head and wished Squiggy would just go away. "Since when are you paling around with your father anyway? I thought he was back on the grift."

"He was travelin' for awhile, lookin' for his next gig, that's true. But he apparently found it and now he wants to share his good fortune with his little Andy."

"How…sweet. Seeing as how he never supported you or your mother or sister before. What's with the sudden burst of charity?"

"Hey, don't you go pickin' on my old man just because yours is such a loser," sniffed Squiggy. "Oh, sure, Dad ain't perfect, but at least he's tryin' to make up for it now."

Carmine closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "Well, I'm gonna try to catch a few winks before we land, Squig, so if you don't mind?"

"Oh, no, sure. I can take a hint." Squiggy put his head back and shut his eyes. "Nighty-night."

Within a few moments, Squiggy's mouth popped open again and he started to snore. Carmine looked at him in amazement. "That's a talent, right there," he marveled. "I swear, he could fall asleep leaning against a wall." He folded his arms and closed his eyes, wishing he could turn off his brain so easily.

The jolt of the plane touching down, plus something bobbing against his right shoulder, woke Carmine with a start. He opened his eyes and saw the sun rising outside the window. Then he glanced down and saw Squiggy's head resting on his shoulder.

"Ugh," Carmine groaned, pushing Squiggy upright. He frowned at the sleeve of his shirt. "That's gonna leave a stain."

"Huh? What?" Squiggy opened his eyes and looked around. He blinked at Carmine and said, "Oh. You're still here?"

"Yeah, Squig. They were fresh out of parachutes." Carmine stretched and rubbed his eyes.

Squiggy yawned, then stood up. A stewardess walked by and said, "Sir, please remain seated until we are at the gate."

Squiggy leered at her. "I'd like to sit at her gate," he murmured as she strolled past.

"Always the ladies' man, ain't ya?" Carmine shook his head. "How are things going with Rhonda, anyway?"

"Slow," Squiggy admitted. "Good, but slow. I sometimes get the feelin' she'd rather not let people know about us. Like she's worried I'm ashamed of her or somethin.'"

"Or something."

The plane came to a stop at the gate and the two men filed out along with the other passengers. "Well, have a good time with your father," said Carmine.

"Yeah, you too. I mean, uh, you know."

"I know." Carmine gave Squiggy a half-hearted wave, then went in search of a cab.

"I don't think they saw us," whispered Lenny from the back of the plane.

"Good. What's Squiggy doing on this flight, anyway?" Frank whispered back.

"He's visiting his father, too. It's a regular homecoming day here in Milwaukee."

They waited until everyone was off the flight before rising and filing out. Then they stood out of sight, watching until Carmine headed out of the terminal and Squiggy disappeared downstairs before stepping out into the open.

"Helmut's here? That loser?" Frank snorted. "I'm surprised Squiggy still bothers with him."

"Yeah, well, hope springs eternal and all that jazz," said Lenny.

"I can remember him back when me, Tony, and he worked at the can factory. Always sniffin' around the ladies, even the married ones. I almost popped him once for touchin' my Josephine when she dropped by with lunch for me." A guilty expression crossed Frank's face. "Not that I should be throwin' stones, all things considered."

"Look, we gotta get you to the hospital before Carmine gets there."

"All right," said Frank. "I got us a rental car. Let's go!" With surprising speed for a man his age, he headed off toward the rental car counter. Lenny hurried after him, hoping that they made it to Tony in time.

"Andy!" His father's booming voice caught Squiggy's attention as he stood next to the baggage claim.

"Dad!" he exclaimed happily. His father was snazzily dressed in a plaid leisure suit and a dark green fedora. A large cigar was clamped between his exposed teeth. "You look like a million bucks!"

"Close to it, my boy. Dern close to it!" His father gave him a hug, nearly setting Squiggy's chest hair ablaze with his cigar tip.

"Ah!"

"Oh, sorry, kid, sorry. Where's your suitcase?"

"Right here." Squiggy picked it up. "So, where to, Dad?"

"The new Pfister Regale, of course! Nothin' but the best for me and my boy from now on!"

"Wow, really? That's one pricey hotelery," said Squiggy. He followed his father out to the parking lot. They continued on until they reached the back of a long, black Cadillac, then his father stopped.

"So?" asked Squiggy.

"So? Get in!" His father pointed to the Caddie.

Squiggy boggled at it. "No way. This is yours?"

"In about another thousand payments, you betcha! I told ya, kid, it's first class all the way for the Squigman boys, from now on." He opened the trunk and Squiggy put his suitcase inside. He marveled at the space. It was bigger than his old closet back home.

As his father drove them downtown, Squiggy tried to get more information. "You gonna tell me about this ship of yours what came in, Dad?"

"Ah, well, it's not quite in dock yet, my boy. But it's close enough to see the steam comin' out of the smokestack!" His father started to hum a little.

Squiggy felt his heart sink a little. "If it ain't in yet, Dad, then how can you afford all this?"

"Credit cards, Andy. Little plastic thingies, let you enjoy now and pay later. Heard of 'em?"

"Um, yeah, Dad. But are you sure you're gonna be able to pay later?"

"Don't you have any faith in your old man?"

Squiggy thought for a long time, before deciding not to answer that. His father looked at him out of the corner of his eye and sighed. "Yeah, okay, I guess I've given you reason to doubt me in the past. But this time, it's practically a done deal."

"What's a done deal, Dad? Why don't you give me some details of this big windfall you're expecting?"

"As soon as we get up to our room, I promise. I'll tell ya everything."

After a lengthy wait for a taxi, Carmine finally arrived at Milwaukee General Hospital. A few minutes later, he was standing outside the cardiac care unit. He started to walk toward the room that the nurse told him was his father's, then paused and started to walk away. Then he turned around and walked back again. He stopped outside the door and rested his forehead against the wall. His heart was pounding and he could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat. Then he heard voices, coming from inside the room, his father's and someone else's. Another man, speaking very low….

"It ain't none of your business!" his father was saying, his speech somewhat slurred.

"You're not gonna break that boy's heart! Not anymore," warned the other voice, a man's, and sort of familiar. Carmine peered around the threshold, trying to see who it was. All he could make out was one side of a broad, grey-haired figure standing at his father's bedside.

"I'll tell him whatever I please! You ain't gonna stop me!" Tony sneered.

My dad, making friends and spreading sunshine, Carmine thought. At the same time, Carmine noticed a man with dark blond hair, dark glasses, and a black, full-length raincoat standing nearby. It looked as though he was listening in on the conversation, too. Before Carmine could ask him what he thought he was doing there, he heard his father yell, "Get out of here! Just get out of here!"

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" said Carmine, stepping into the room. He froze when he saw Frank DeFazio looking back at him. "Frank? What are you doing here?

"Carmine," said Frank, looking at him with a strange mixture of grief and leftover anger. "Look, come with me a minute, okay? I gotta talk to you."

"Me first," said his father, his eyes narrowing.

"Carmine, please," said Frank, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

Carmine looked from one man to the other. "What is going on here?"

"I raised you, boy!" snapped his father. "The least you can do is mind me! Get this bozo outta hear so I can tell ya what I gotta tell ya!"

Rolling his eyes, Carmine said, "Whatever you say, Dad. Look, Frank, I'm sure this won't take long. I'll come right out and you can tell me whatever it is you flew all the way out to Milwaukee to say. But for now?" He gestured to the door.

Frank opened his mouth, then closed it. His head drooped a little and he nodded, then walked out the door. He paused before exiting and said, "Remember, son, this bastard lives to make other people miserable. Whatever he tell you…just don't rush to judgment, okay?"

"Oh-kay," said Carmine, puzzled. He turned back to the old man in the narrow hospital bed. There were tubes and wires attaching him to machines and he looked unnaturally shrunken. His limbs rested on the bed awkwardly, as though someone else had arranged them there. But his dark eyes were filled with the same, familiar iciness as they turned and focused on Carmine's. "So. You came."

"Yeah. I'm not sure why, but I did." Carmine folded his hands in front of him, then tried putting them behind his back, then finally shoved them into his pants pockets.

"Ain't you gonna ask how I'm doin'?"

"Sure, Dad. How are you?"

"How do I look?" his father snarled, his speech a little garbled. "I had a heart attack!"

"I know," sighed Carmine. He stepped a little closer to the bed. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Dad."

"That was almost believable," grumbled his father. But his eyes lost a little of their coldness.

"Look, Dad, what was Frank doing here? I know you guys used to work together a long time ago, but why would he show up here now?"

His father sneered. "Came to gloat over my corpse. Forget him, Carmine. I got some stuff I need to tell you, just in case this doesn't get better." He glanced over at the heart monitor that blipped beside him.

Carmine shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Go on."

His father started to say something, then paused. Tony was studying his face with an intensity that made Carmine increasingly more uncomfortable. Finally, he said, "You look like your mother."

"That's what you wanted to tell me?"

"No. It's just…forget it. Look, kid, I don't know how much more time I got. And the thing is, I'd like you to do somethin' for me."

Carmine felt his heart sink. "Oh? What's that?"

His father had a strange look on his face, as though he was struggling with his own words. Finally, he let out a long sigh and said, "Just go to the house, will you? Go in my room. On the bureau, you'll see a little wooden box. Just…bring it here, would you?"

Carmine just looked at the old man for a moment. "That's it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

"You ask me to come all the way here from California, just so I can run an errand for you?"

"It's important, boy! Just do it, all right? Now get outta here. I need my rest." His father closed his eyes.

Carmine continued to stare at him for another moment or two. I'm not going to let this hurt me, he recited. I'm not going to care. I knew this would happen. He'll never change. Stupid to think he'd change. Stupid, stupid, stupid….

"Goodbye," said Carmine. He turned around and walked out of the room. He kept going, down the hallway, past the man with the dark blond hair and sunglasses, past Frank who was waiting for him in the lounge. He didn't pause when Frank called his name, didn't stop walking until he was out of that cold, stifling place and away from that cold, stifling man he'd wasted his too much time hoping would turn into a human being. Only when he was outside did Carmine stop, lean back against the brick hospital building, and mutter, "What difference does it make if you live or not? You've been dead inside for years."

Lenny walked into the waiting room and found Frank standing there, alone, with a lost expression on his face. "What happened?" he asked, handing his father-in-law one of the cups of coffee he'd picked up in the hospital cafeteria.

Frank took it and Lenny saw that his hand was shaking. "Oh, geeze," said Lenny. "You already talked to Carmine? How did it go?"

"It didn't," said Frank. He tried to take a sip of coffee and nearly spilled it. Lenny grabbed the cup and set it on a table, then helped Frank into a nearby chair. "I tried, Len. First I went to Tony, begged him, threatened him, whatever, not to tell the boy. But then Carmine showed up and I couldn't get him to listen to me and after, Carmine just ran out."

"Oh, no," said Lenny, sitting down next to Frank. His heart sank. "So Tony told him first, huh?"

"He must have. Carmine came outta that room lookin' like he'd been sucker punched. Wouldn't even give me the chance to explain – just marched out. That's it, Len. Now how can I tell him my side, explain that his father is me, why I didn't tell him first?" He trailed off, eyes filled pain.

Lenny felt a sympathetic lump rise in his throat. "This stinks worse than anything," he said, patting his father-in-law on the back. "But, Pop, he could just be in shock, you know? After he thinks it over, I think Carmine'll hear you out. Really. He's pretty reasonable, most of the time. And I'm sure he's worryin' about who is real father is. You sure Tony don't know its you?"

"No. Marie swore she'd never tell him and since he never said nothin' to me about it, I assume she kept her word. Dammit!" shouted Frank. "I should've smothered the bastard when I had the chance!" He glared in the direction of Tony Ragusa's room. "I had time, ya know. I could've just taken the pillow and…." He pantomimed pushing something over someone's face. "But no, I try to reason with him. I use words on a guy who ain't heard nothin' but what he wanted to hear for decades!" Frank rose to his feet, a gleam of murderous intent in his eyes. He started toward Tony's room.

Lenny grabbed his father-in-law's arm and held him still. "Whoa, down boy! It ain't gonna help no one if you go to jail for murder!"

Frank paused, then slumped back down into a chair. "You're right. I know your right. It's just…but no. It's too late. Too late." Frank buried his face in his hands.

Lenny slouched back in his chair. There had to be a way he could make this all better. He was still convinced that after all, this was good news; Carmine's father was actually a decent human being who he could be proud of. Surely he'd realize that and then he'd forgive Frank and maybe they could be like a real father and son. Then Laverne would see how happy her father was and welcome her new brother into the family. "And then puppies and kittens will rain down from the sky," Lenny muttered aloud.

"What?" asked Frank, peering at him from between his fingers.

"Nothin'. Just somethin' my father used to say whenever I'd get overly optimistic. He was a realistic sort of guy, my Pappa. 'Deal in facts, son,' he'd tell me. 'Don't focus on what you wish, focus on playin' the hand you got dealt.'" Lenny smiled a little at the memory.

Frank cleared his throat and sat up. "What ever happened to your dad, Lenny? I knew him a little from the old neighborhood. Worked for the fish packing plant, didn't he?"

"Yeah. He stuck it out with me and my sister after my mom split. He was a good guy, worked hard, did what he could for us. Times were tough, but, you know, at least we didn't starve." Lenny looked at his shoes. "We kinda lost touch over the years, except for cards at the holidays."

"You know where he is?"

Lenny shrugged. "Not for sure. I tried to find him to tell him about the wedding, but the invite I sent came back address unknown. He moves around a lot."

"Aw, Len. Sorry to hear that," said Frank.

"Anyway, that's all in the past. We've gotta deal with the hand Tony in there just dealt. Which means, you gotta go find Carmine and talk to him."

Frank nodded. "You're right. The boy needs me, whether he knows it or not." He stood up and shot one last, dirty look in the direction of Tony's room. "C'mon, Len. Let's go find my son."

Squiggy rolled over on the soft, wide bed and stretched to his full length. "Cool, I can't even reach the edges!" he said gleefully. He sat up and looked around the room. "Daddy? Dad, you here?"

No response. Squiggy climbed out of bed and went about his morning preparations. He spent a little extra time getting his hair just right. After all, he was about to be rich. It was important to look the part.

Walking over to the wet bar in the hotel room, he noticed some writing on a piece of paper torn from the hotel notepad. Picking it up, he read, "Dear Sonny Boy, I hope you had a good nap. I know you were tired after your long flight. I've gone to talk to your brother. Will let you know how it goes. Love, Mr. Helmut Squigman."

Aw, geeze, thought Squiggy. He went without me? Squiggy sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on his shoes, his mind still reeling from the incredible story his father had told him on the drive to the hotel. It was hard to believe any of it – a stash of hidden money, a long-lost sibling, an evil double-crosser – it was wilder than any Dragnet episode he'd ever seen.

"He shoulda woken me up to go with," Squiggy complained to his right shoe before tugging it on. "After all, I'm actually a friend of Carmine's. Well, maybe friend is too much…or not enough, as the case may be." He pulled on his other shoe, picked up the phone, and pressed "1" for the front desk.

"Hello?" Squiggy said. "Yes, this is Mr. Squigman, in the penthouse room? Yes, and good day to you, too." He smirked. "I need a taxicab to…." Where? Where's Carmine's old house? He wracked his memory. "Um, somewhere on Delancey Street. Yeah, I know it's a long street. I just need to get to one end of it and I'll figure out the rest from there. Thanks." He hung up. "Delancey Street. Oughtta change the name to Easy Street, once the Squigman boys get together today." He grinned and whistled as he walked out the hotel room door.

Carmine unlocked the door to his father's crumbling rowhouse with the key he'd found on top of the door frame. Why his father even bothered to lock the place was a mystery. There was nothing in it anyone would want.

He walked inside and made a face at the musty smell. No windows had been opened for years to release the smells of old food and empty beer cans. Carmine conjured up a vague memory of the place when his mother was keeping it, the thin drapes fluttering in the breeze, sunlight pooling on the spotless, bare floor. They may have been broke, but at least when she was there, they hadn't lived in a sty. He wondered if his father missed that, or if he even bothered to remember all the good his mother had done. Probably not.

Carmine started up the creaky wooden staircase to his father's bedroom. He paused midway up when someone behind him said, "Oh, good! You're here."

Startled, Carmine turned and saw a stocky man framed in the doorway. He was dressed in a somewhat mismatched leisure jacket and trousers, a green hat stuck on his head. "Do I know you?"

"Yeah, you do. Well, not all that well. Not as well as you should." The man strolled through the door as if he owned the place. He stood on the bottom step and looked up at Carmine with familiar, beady eyes.

"You're Squiggy's father," said Carmine, more puzzled than before. "Helmut, right?"

"Right. That's me."

"Um, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here looking for you. Carmine, right?"

"Yeah." Carmine reluctantly held out his hand. Helmut climbed the stairs jauntily and gave it a firm shake. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing, my boy. Nothing but to give you some good news. How's that rotten old bastard that raised ya? He dead yet?"

"I…no," said Carmine, offended and surprised to be offended at the same time. "How's my father any of your concern?"

"Your father. Well, see, that's the point of my little visit." Helmut leaned casually against the faded wallpaper covered wall. "Your daddy wasn't too nice to you growing up from what Andy tells me."

"He could have been better."

"Yeah, well that's a cryin' shame. You know, if I'd have known sooner, I'd have protected you from him."

Carmine shook his head. "What?"

"I mean it, kid. Look, I wasn't the greatest dad to Andy and his sister, but at least I wasn't mean. Your father, he was always nasty, especially after what Marie put him through."

"What do you know about my mother?"

"I know a whole lot about her, boyo," said Helmut, leering a little. "I knew that little tamale real well. Not that I was the only one."

Carmine's eyes narrowed. "Hey, you watch what you say about her! My mother had her problems, but she was a wonderful woman!"

"Oh, no doubt, no doubt. In fact, I'd go as far as to say she was the best!"

Carmine didn't like what Helmut was hinting at. "I think you'd better go."

"Okay, calm down. Look, I got good news for you, Carmine. Hear me out."

Carmine folded his arms across his chest and glared down at the older man. "What is this good news you keep going on about?"

Helmut grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I'm your daddy, Carmine. Your real daddy, not that nasty a-hole who raised you."

Carmine's mouth dropped open. He struggled to find a response to something so absurd, but failed.

"I can see you're a little surprised," said Helmut. He reached up to pat his arm, but Carmine pulled away before contact could be made. "Look, it's simple, kid. Me and your mamma, we had us a little, um, how to say it nicely? A fling."

"You…_what_? You and my mother?" Carmine boggled at him. Then he burst out laughing.

Helmut looked at him with some annoyance. "It ain't that funny."

"Oh! Oh, yes, yes it is! You and my mother…and you think…that's rich." Carmine tried to catch his breath. "Right, okay, so I'm your son. And, so what then, that makes Squiggy my _brother_? Oh, brother!" He started to laugh again.

Helmut rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, calm yourself down. I know this is a shock."

"Shock? It's insane! You can't actually believe this…can you?" Carmine stopped laughing and leaned a little closer to Helmut, studying his eyes. "You can't seriously think that you're my real father!"

Helmut just looked at him smugly.

Carmine frowned. "You do though, don't you? Oh, my God, you're completely nuts!" He turned away and started back up the stairs.

"Wait!" said Helmut, grabbing his wrist. Carmine tried to tug it away again, but this time the older man's grip was firm. Carmine turned back to face him. "Carmine, I'm not kidding. I did your mother, back in the day, and you're the result. You are _my_ son, not Tony's. I should think that'd be a relief to you."

Carmine slowly counted to ten before answering. When he spoke again, his voice was almost as cold as his father's usually was. "There's nothing in the world I'd like better than for Tony Ragusa not to be my father. But what you're saying makes no sense. My mother wasn't some tramp who slept around, like your implying. Now get the hell out of here and let me go about my business."

"I got proof."

Carmine blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Proof, kid." Helmut reached into his leisure suit and pulled out a letter. He handed it to Carmine, who looked at it as though it might bite him. "Go on. The writing should look familiar."

Hesitantly, Carmine took the letter. After a quick glance, he looked up at Helmut. "This is my mother's handwriting."

"Yeah, I know. She had nice penmanship, Marie did. Amongst her other talents."

Carmine frowned at him, then looked more closely at the letter. He read it three times before the words started to sink in.

Dearest,

I've wanted to tell you this since my beautiful little boy was born, but I was afraid. Afraid for myself, for you, and for our son. Yes, our son, because I know, deep in my heart, that Carmine is yours, not Tony's.

I know Tony suspects, but believe me, he has no idea that the baby is yours, nor will I ever confirm his suspicions. I know that it would only bring heartache to your family, not to mention what Tony might do to us all. But this means that you and I can no longer risk being together. So, my sweet friend, this is goodbye. I'll always remember our all-too-brief time together and be grateful for the miracle that is our child.

Best always,

Marie

Carmine looked up, his hand clenching around the letter. It took him some time before he trusted his voice. "This was written a long time ago," he finally managed. "Why now? Why come forward now?"

Helmut's expression was sympathetic, but his eyes remained gleeful. "I didn't wanna mess up your life, you know, make you feel bad about your mother. But now, what with Marie gone and Tony goin', it just seems like the time is right. Don't worry, though, Tony never saw this."

"He knows, though. He's always known." Carmine closed his eyes. "It explains so much."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I didn't come forward sooner. I was kinda busy, you know, what with my own family and other enterprises. But, hey, better now than never, right?" Helmut extended his arms. "Son."

Carmine felt as if he were choking. He stepped back, nearly stumbling on the stairs. "He knew he wasn't my father. That's why he didn't care. That's why he was so angry with her, and with me. My God." Carmine balled up the letter, stared at the crumpled paper in disbelief, then threw it to the living room floor.

Helmut was watching him closely. "Yeah, okay, I can see this is gonna take some getting used to. But, listen, kid, I got more good news for you. Somewhere in this house is a paper with some important numbers on it. You're gonna want that, because when Tony dies, as his only 'son,' you're gonna inherit the mother load!"

Carmine slowly returned his gaze to Helmut's face. "What?"

"Pay attention! Tony's bank account numbers, Carmine. He hid 'em in here, somewhere. You gotta find 'em and then, once the old goat kicks, we'll be set for life. So, you have any idea where to start?"

Carmine shook his head, as though waking up. "Wait a minute. Bank account numbers? For what, the vast Ragusa fortune?" He gestured angrily at the room around them. "If he even has a bank account, it's empty! At most, I might be able to sell this dump for a thousand bucks. It's hardly worth the effort!"

"I'm not talkin' about this craphole, kid!" snapped Helmut, losing a little of his jocularity. "Tony, he had a colorful past back in the day. He rustled up a lot of money rum-runnin' during Prohibition. He and I were even partners for awhile, bet you didn't know that."

"You're out of your mind," scoffed Carmine. "My old man worked in a factory his whole, miserable life. If he had money, why would he have kept on working at a job he hated and living like a pauper?"

"Because, kid, he got caught. The only way he could hold onto his earnings and stay out of the slammer was to hide the evidence, the money. He stashed it in a Swiss account, usin' only a little here, a little there, nothin' big so that he didn't arouse suspicion." Helmut furrowed his forehead. "Part of that stash is mine by all rights, but he kept it all for himself."

"So what makes you think it's coming to me?" asked Carmine, suspiciously.

"'Cause I did a little checking. I got connections, kid, and they tell me your old man don't have any other surviving relatives. He dies and whatever dough he's got automatically goes to you, his only heir." Helmut rubbed his hands together. "Tell me where the account numbers are and we'll both get even with Tony. Me for the money and you for how he treated your mamma and you."

"I don't know. This is all pretty convenient." Carmine glanced upstairs.

Helmut followed his gaze. "He told you where the info is, didn't he? That's why you're here."

Carmine widened his eyes innocently. "He didn't say anything to me about account numbers. He just asked me to bring him some stuff to the hospital, a toothbrush and razor, that sort of thing."

"Right," said Helmut, clearly not convinced. He smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "You look a lot like your mamma, kid."

"Yeah, so I've heard." Carmine carefully took another step.

Helmut stepped up, too. "She was beautiful. No, more than that. She was _hot_. When she used to dance with Tony when they was courting, whoo-boy! She drove all the guys crazy!" Helmut ascended another step as well. "She coulda had any guy she wanted, Marie. And she did, believe me, before _and_ after she hooked up with Tony."

Carmine stopped and glared at Helmut. "I told you, watch what you say about her!"

"About who? My mistress?" Helmut's smile vanished. "You know, she only married Tony because she thought she'd get a cut of the bundle he was makin' on the side. Oh, sure, kid, you don't think a woman like that married that rat out of _love_, do you? No way. She certainly didn't marry him because of his sterling career on a factory line. She knew, Carmine, she _knew_ we were connected. Only reason she chose him over me was the money. Joke was on her though…after Tony got busted, she didn't see a dime. That's when she started sniffin' around my door again, even though I'd gotten hitched myself by then. And hey, what can I say? The flesh is weak…."

"I'm warning you!" Carmine started to turn away. "Get the hell out!"

"What?" Helmut reached up and grabbed his wrist tightly. "Don't like to hear the truth, do you? That your mother was nothin' more than a common whore?"

"Get off of me!" Carmine tried to jerk his wrist away from Helmut, yanking the older man off balance. Frantically trying to regain solid footing, Helmut clung to Carmine's arm as he fell backward. Helmut's full weight dragging him down, Carmine plunged straight down the wooden staircase right after his newly proclaimed father.

It took only a moment or two before they landed at the bottom of the staircase. Then the dingy house was once again as silent as a grave.

Helmut raised his head and looked around, blinking. "Christ, that hurt," he groaned, rolling over onto his stomach. He touched his nose gingerly and winced, then forced himself to his knees. He looked around. "Nice, real nice," he said, looking down at the young man lying on the floor by his side. "No wonder Tony never liked you. You young people these days, you got no respect for your elders." He glared at Carmine for another moment, then put his hand on his shoulder. "Get up, kid. You owe me an apology!"

He waited, then shook him a little. "I said get up. Come on, we ain't got all day! Tony could go at any minute and the lawyers'll need to know…Carmine? Hey, come on." He rolled the motionless man onto his back, then muttered, "Aw, geeze. Look what you've gone and done."

The young man's eyes were closed and there was large bruise starting to darken over his left eyebrow. Gulping a little, Helmut tried again. "Come on, snap out of it, kid. You're okay. Ain't you?" His hand shaking a little, he patted Carmine's cheek. Then he pressed his fingertips against the side of his neck and waited.

"Crap!" Helmut shouted. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Okay, okay, this is not what I had planned. Not at all." He looked at Carmine with wide-eyed helplessness. "You got your old man's rotten temper and look where it got you! This is your fault, you know, not mine."

Groaning, Helmut got to his feet and dusted himself off. Then he glanced up the stairs. "Tony must've sent you here for those numbers, and I'm bettin' they're why you were headed upstairs," he said, as though Carmine could hear him. "You know, even if something permanent happens to you, I can still use those codes to get what's mine, so long as I have that letter to prove I'm your next of kin." He looked around the floor, until he found the crumpled missive, then swept it up and jammed it back into his pocket. He looked down at Carmine once more. "I'm really sorry about this, kid. I was hopin' we could do this all nicely; share and share alike. Oh, well, best laid plans and all that." He shrugged, then carefully stepped over the young man's body and hurried up the stairs.

Squiggy paid for the taxi and got out. Once on Delancey, he'd realized that all the rowhouses looked alike and he still couldn't remember the right number. It'd been years since he'd been on this street, and even then, it hadn't been to go to Carmine's house. It wasn't as though Carmine had given him the time of day when they were kids, except to push him down and take his lunch money, or make fun of him on the playground. So Squiggy figured he'd have to resort to going door-to-door, knocking and asking until someone pointed him in the right direction.

Before he could go up the walk of the first house, he saw his father hustling toward him from down the street. "Hey, Dad!" he exclaimed. "Boy am I glad I found you! Did you…?"

"We'll talk later, sonny. Right now, we need to go."

Squiggy looked at his father as he quickly approached. His suit was disheveled and one of his trouser legs was ripped. He also had a bruise along the bridge of his nose and what looked like dried blood around his nostrils. "What happened to you?" Squiggy demanded. "Did Carmine do this?"

"Um, not exactly," said Helmut, grabbing his arm and propelling him down the street. "Where the hell did I park?"

"He did, didn't he?" Squiggy planted his feet, stopping them both. "That no-good…I knew he might be a little upset, but there's just no excuse for beatin' up an old man, especially not his own old man! Where is he? I'm gonna teach him a little brotherly lesson!" Squiggy started back in the direction from which Helmut had come.

"No!" shouted Helmut, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't," he added in a slightly quieter voice. "Look, your, um, brother, he didn't hit me. Not for lack of tryin'…but that's not important now. What's important is I got what I went there for. Now, let's get back to the hotel." He started tugging Squiggy back down the street.

Squiggy let him until they were in front of the Cadillac, then halted again. "Wait a minute. I thought you went to the house to tell Carmine about the Swiss account, and that you were his real father, and that now we was all gonna be rich once Tony croaked."

"Yeah. I did all that. Now let's…."

"But, where is he?"

"Where's who?"

"Carmine!" said Squiggy, exasperated. "I mean, didn't he wanna, you know, join us? Talk about all this? Get to know his little brother?"

"He _already_ knows you, kid, remember?" Helmut ran around to the driver's side. "Come on, get in, let's go!"

Squiggy reluctantly slid into the car. "Yeah, he knows me as the annoying kid he went to school with, or the irritating neighbor, or the guy whose best friend he took away. But he don't know me like I am now, which is his own flesh and blood. Well, half anyway." Squiggy looked at the floor. "I thought he'd at least want to try, you know, to be brothers."

Helmut sighed and reached over, cuffing him fondly on the back of the head. "Cheer up, kid. You're gonna be loaded. After that, you can buy whatever friends or family you want."

"I guess." Squiggy stared out the window. "So, if Carmine didn't slug you, what happened? Was he glad, or ticked, or what?"

Helmut turned on the Caddie and drove away, tires screeching as he pulled out of the parking spot a little too fast. "He took it okay. What do you want me to say? I think he just needs some time, you know? He'll be all right, after a while." Helmut looked distracted.

"Yeah. But what about…?"

"A pole. I wasn't looking where I was going, I was so excited." He patted his jacket pocket. "It's all here, Andy, numbers and passcodes. That idiot Tony just had 'em sittin' in a box in his room, practically right out in the open."

"Carmine just let you take his – I mean, Tony's – hidden account info? Just like that? I'd a thought he'd want to keep it, seeing as he's the beneficiary."

"Will you cut it out with the third degree?" Helmut snapped angrily. Squiggy flinched a little.

"Sorry…Andy. I'm sorry," his father said, looking at him guiltily out of the corner of his eye. "Look, just don't you worry about Carmine. He's fine. Or at least, he will be. Probably."

Squiggy nodded and sat back in silence for the rest of the ride. He couldn't shake the feeling that his father wasn't telling him something. Something important. Maybe even, something not so good.


	4. Chapter 4

Fathers Day

(In which Frank has a lot of explaining to do...)

"I never thought I'd set foot in this place again," said Frank, looking at the door to the rowhouse. He touched it uncertainly, as though afraid to go any further.

"Me, neither," said Lenny, remembering the last time he'd been here with Carmine and Tony. He couldn't get out of there fast enough. Seeing it again reminded him how it had smelled of cheap booze and death.

"I guess we should knock, in case Carmine's in there. Wouldn't wanna scare him by just busting in." Frank gave the door two solid raps, then waited. Then he tried again. After still not receiving a response, he shrugged. "I guess he ain't here. Maybe he didn't come after all. Maybe he just went straight to the airport, to get away from all of this as fast as he could."

"Maybe," said Lenny. He tried the doorknob. It turned freely. "It's unlocked."

"That's odd. Tony was always paranoid, among his other charming traits. Not like him to leave his place open."

"Then maybe Carmine is here, just upstairs. He might not have heard us." Lenny turned the knob and pushed the door open. Gulping a little, he held out his hand. "Age before beauty."

"Thanks a lot," said Frank, reluctantly stepping into the dark interior.

"I can wait out here," Lenny volunteered. "You know, just in case…."

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" he heard Frank exclaim. "Lenny! Get in here!"

"What? What is it?" Lenny sprang over the threshold, startled by the sudden urgency in his father-in-law's voice. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Frank was kneeling at the foot of the staircase, next to something on the floor. "What the…?"

"Carmine!" cried Frank, his hands on the unmoving man's shoulders. "Carmine, say something!" He shook him gently. Lenny could see his father-in-law's hands were trembling.

"What happened to him?" asked Lenny, dropping to his knees. He took in Carmine's pale face and the nasty bruise on his forehead. "Oh, geeze. He must've fallen down the stairs."

"How? How could this happen?" Frank asked, clasping the injured man's hand.

Lenny shook his head. "I dunno. Carmine's not one for trippin' over his own feet." He leaned a little closer to his friend, then put his hand on his chest. "He's alive, Frank," he added with relief. "It's okay. He's alive."

Frank was rocking slightly. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I did this," he whispered. "He must've been so upset after finding out. I should've been the one to tell him, Len. Maybe then…."

"Hey, calm down, okay? This isn't your fault." Lenny put his hand on the older man's shoulder.

"He's my son, Len! My only boy! And I let him suffer in this house his whole childhood because I was too scared to claim him." Frank angrily brushed at his eyes, which didn't leave Carmine's face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've never listened to your mother."

"Look," said Lenny firmly. "This isn't helping. We've gotta try and do something for him now, okay? Whatever happened here in the past can't be undone. But you can still save your son."

Frank took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was much calmer. "You're right, Len. He needs me now." Frank leaned closer to Carmine and said firmly, "Wake up, son. You gotta wake up now." He watched the unconscious man's face for a response, then said, "Len, go find a towel and soak it in cold water. Get ice if you can find it. And call an ambulance."

"Right." Lenny got to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. He found what looked to be a clean dishtowel and went to the icebox. A bag of ice was inside. He wrapped several cubes in the towel and ran back to the foyer. On his way, he grabbed a telephone and tried to call out, but found there was no service. Tony must've forgotten to pay a bill or ten, Lenny realized.

Back in the foyer, he handed the ice in the towel to Frank, who took it and pressed it carefully against his son's forehead. "Did you call for help?" he asked.

"I tried, but there's no service. I can go next door, if you want."

"Okay…wait. Just a minute."

Lenny crouched down again and saw Carmine stir a little. "Oh, good. See, I told ya he'd be all right."

Frank put his free hand against the side of the young man's face. "That's it," he said encouragingly. "You're okay."

Carmine groaned. "Open your eyes," said Frank. "Look at me, son."

"Not…your…."Carmine murmured, turning away.

"What?" asked Lenny. "Carmine, can you hear us?"

"Not. Your. Son." he replied, a little more clearly. Then he was still again.

"Carmine!" called Frank, shaking him with greater urgency.

Carmine slowly turned his face back to them. "Not your son," he repeated, groggily. "Never be…son." His eyes opened part way, but he seemed to look right through Frank.

"Are you okay?" asked Lenny.

"No," said Carmine, blinking up at him. He opened his eyes a little wider and asked, "Len? Is that you?"

"It is," said Lenny, feeling a rush of relief. "Don't worry, everything's gonna be all right now. Your father's here."

"My father?" Carmine turned his head a little until he was facing Frank. He looked confused. "Frank? What are you doing here?"

"Len and I came lookin' for you, to make sure you were okay." Frank smiled at him kindly. "We found out you weren't."

Carmine looked around, still blinking. "Where's…my new father?"

Lenny exchanged a look with Frank. "He's right here, Carmine."

"Where?"

Lenny was feeling a little worried. "Don't you remember? You were just talking to him."

"I…know." Carmine sounded a little irritated, although his voice was still weak. "You said. He was here. Where?"

Frank swallowed hard, then said, "It's me, Carmine. Don't you recognize me?"

"Of course I do. But where's my father?"

"You mean Tony?" Lenny tried.

"No!" Carmine suddenly rolled onto his side and pushed himself up until he was sitting.

"Take it easy, son," said Frank, putting an arm around his shoulders to support him. "We don't have to talk about all this now."

"I think we do," said Carmine, his voice a little stronger. He pressed his hand against his head and grimaced. "How long have I been here?"

Lenny shrugged. "We don't know. We just got here a few minutes ago."

"Son of a bitch," muttered Carmine. He cradled his head between his hands, as though it might explode. "He left, didn't he? My own father left me to die!"

Frank cleared his throat. "I had no idea what had happened, or I'd have gotten here sooner. Believe me, I'd never want anything to happen to you."

Carmine looked at him, an expression of bewilderment and pain on his face. "What are you talking about? I don't mean you, I mean my father. Helmut."

"Helmut? Helmut _Squigman_?" exclaimed Lenny.

"The same."

"What's he got to do with any of this, Carmine?"

"He's my father, Len. My real, biological father. Which obviously means a lot to him, considering he just tried to kill me!" Carmine groaned. "And I thought Tony was bad."

"Carmine," began Frank, utterly confused. "Helmut Squigman ain't your father."

Carmine looked at him. "He's not? But he had a letter from my mother, saying he is."

"What letter?"

Carmine glanced around, then pointed to the floor. "There. The letter, it should be there. It's her writing, I'm sure of it."

Frank struggled to his feet and searched for a moment, then said, "There's no letter here, Carmine."

Carmine sighed. "Helmut must've taken it on his way out. I remember a little of it…something about knowing deep in her heart that I was his, not Tony's."

Lenny saw an expression of shock cross Frank's face, which quickly darkened to anger. "Helmut showed you that letter from your mother as proof that he was your real father?"

Carmine nodded, wincing in pain at the movement. "She admitted she had an affair."

"Not with Helmut Squigman!" snapped Frank. "Except maybe in his dreams. Marie never gave him the time of day, no matter how much he chased her around – she had standards!"

"What do you know about this?" asked Carmine.

Frank knelt by his side again. "Carmine, I don't know how Helmut got hold of that letter or got it into his big empty noggin that it was addressed to him, but your mother didn't write it…."

"But she did," Carmine interrupted. "I recognize the writing."

"To _me_!" exclaimed Frank. "She wrote it to me, years ago, not long after you were born! She met me at the local dance hall and handed it to me, said she couldn't bring herself to say the words. I was so heartbroken after I read it that I dropped it at her feet and just walked out." He stared into space for a moment. "Come to think of it, Helmut was hangin' out there that night. He must've picked it up after we left and kept it all these years…but why? And why lie about _this_?"

"To you?" asked Carmine. He started to sway a little where he sat. His arms dropped limply to his sides. "Wait a minute. If she wrote it to you, then that means…."

"Right. That's what it means," said Frank. He swallowed, then added. "Son."

"Oh," said Carmine. Lenny watched as his friend's face, already pale, managed to turn a shade or two whiter. "Oh. I see." Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped over.

Lenny managed to get his hands between Carmine's head and the floor before the two collided. He eased his friend back down and said anxiously, "I think you just finished him off."

"Great. Way to go, Frankie," muttered his father-in-law. He shook his head. "Help me get him into the car. We'd better take him to the hospital ourselves."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," said Lenny. He wrapped his arms around Carmine's chest as Frank took his legs. They lifted him carefully and made their way out the front door.

"Why in the world would Squiggy's father tell Carmine that he was his father if he knew it wasn't true?" asked Lenny, puffing a little with effort.

Frank shook his head. "I dunno. But if I understand what Carmine was sayin' correctly, he almost killed my son. And he's gonna pay for that, Len. He's gonna pay, big time."

Lenny gulped a little. He had no doubt in his mind that Frank would make good on his threat. If there was one thing his father-in-law valued above all else, it was the well being of his family.

Later that afternoon, Carmine found himself in the hospital emergency room with Lenny and Frank, whose entire face was crinkled with worry lines. "Are you sure he's okay, doc?"

The doctor picked up a chart and made some notes. "Aside from some minor bumps and bruises, he's fine. He should wait a day or two before driving or using heavy machinery."

"And there go my plans for fork lift racing," said Carmine in mock disappointment. He sat up on the examining table, only to find Frank's hand on his chest, pushing him back down flat. "Hey, I was just kidding!"

"You're just gonna send him home, just like that?" Frank was looking at the doctor in shock. "What if there's some of that, you know, internal damage?"

"Sir, look. We checked him over thoroughly. Twice, at your request, including x-rays. Medically he doesn't need any further treatment, other than some aspirin for when his head aches. Now, if you'll excuse me…." The doctor turned to leave.

"Okay, then," said Carmine, sitting up again. Then he was on his back, Frank's hand holding him firmly against the table. "Aw, come on!"

"Now wait a minute. I know you're a busy doctor, doctor, but the boy was knocked senseless. You don't just pat him on the head and give him a lollipop after somethin' like that!"

"Lollipop?" asked Lenny hopefully. "You got lollipops?"

The doctor sighed. He reached into his lab coat and handed a wrapped lollipop to Lenny, who beamed at him gratefully.

"Hey, no fair," grumbled Carmine. "I'm the patient."

The doctor headed out the door, with Frank hard on his heels. Carmine took the opportunity to sit up again. He swung his legs over the table and started to hop down.

"Whoa there," said Lenny, around his lollipop. He held out his hand. "Why don't you try just sitting for a minute or two before graduating to standing?"

"Len, cut it out. You sound just like my…like Frank." Carmine hung his head a little, a strange, sad feeling weighing at his heart.

"Yeah, well, I'd just rather you not keel over on me again." Lenny smiled kindly, putting his arm around Carmine's shoulders. "This must all be really weird to you, huh."

"What me? Nah. In one day, I had not one, but two different men tell me that I'm their biological son, neither of which is the man who raised me." Carmine shrugged. "On the bright side, only one shoved me down a flight of stairs."

"Did Squiggy's father really try to kill you?" asked Lenny, looking a little sick. "I mean, I know Helmut ain't the most upstanding guy, but a cold-blooded murderer?"

Carmine sighed. "You know, Len, I'm honestly a little fuzzy on the details. I can remember what he told me…then he said something about my mother…." He shook his head. "He kept grabbing me, trying to keep me from going upstairs. After that, I'm not sure what happened. The next thing I can clearly remember is you and Frank looking down at me."

"And what Frank told you. You do remember that, don't you?"

Carmine nodded. "Oh yeah. That part? Crystal clear."

"So. Are you happy? Sad? Angry?"

Carmine thought about it. "Yes," he replied. "You know, Lenny, when I was growing up, and Frank would invite me to dinner and later, when he'd help me out with money or jobs when I needed it, I sometimes used to pretend that he was my real father." Carmine chuckled a little. "I'd imagine what it would be like to be part of the DeFazio family, to have a happy mother and a great, lovable father, and a sweet big sister…." He trailed off, suddenly feeling a little nauseous.

"Carmine? You okay?"

"Oh, Lord. Laverne's my sister."

"So?" asked Lenny, looking confused. "What's wrong with that? I mean, a coupla hours ago, you thought Squiggy was your brother. I'd think it'd be a lot more pleasant for you knowin' that my beautiful, wonderful wife is your sibling."

"Oh, it is, Len. It's just that – never mind." Carmine couldn't bring himself to say that the thought that he'd once made out with his own half-sister was making him queasy. Better that her husband never knew. He sure wished he didn't.

"What are you gonna do now, Carmine?"

"About what?"

"Well, everything, I guess. About Tony. You gonna tell him off once and for all, now that you know you've got no blood ties to him?"

Carmine shrugged. "Maybe. But what's the point? I came here wanting to find out why he didn't like his own son and I did. The answer was simply that I wasn't, and he knew it. At least now, I've got some sort of reason, something that I had no control over. No matter how good I did at school, or how well I minded him at home, or what I did in life, he could never love me. I was a living, breathing reminder that my mother had an affair. It doesn't make it all better. But at least now, I understand."

Lenny nodded sympathetically. "So what about Helmut? You gonna have him arrested, right?"

"For what? Impersonating my father?"

"No, for tossing you down a flight of stairs and leaving you there! That's gotta be a crime, even in Milwaukee."

"I told you Len, I honestly can't remember what happened. It might have been an accident. As for the leaving part, I don't know if that's a crime."

"Yeah, well, it was a stinky thing to do to a person anyway, son or no son. Besides, from what you told us after we got you to the emergency room, he's tryin' to swindle you out of a lot of dough."

"That's true, Len. For all I know, he got those account numbers and is already emptying the bank." A thoughtful look crossed Carmine's face. "Although without my fath…Tony's authorization, or mine if Tony's gone, the numbers alone probably won't do it."

"I guess that's why he came up with this whole scheme. Otherwise, he'd have just stolen the numbers and used them."

"Right, although I find it hard to believe that he had the foresight to pick up that letter to Frank and kept it for all these years as part of his plan."

Lenny considered this. "Maybe he just kept it 'cause he just wanted it, then when he heard about Tony's heart attack, figured out that he could use it now."

"That's pretty odd, right there, to keep something that was so private between my mother and Frank," Carmine mused. "You know, other than my mother's letter, Helmut doesn't have any proof that he's my father."

"Because he's not," said Lenny.

Carmine nodded. "Exactly. Which means I can prove that he isn't. One paternity test should take care of his plans once and for all. Especially now that I have a real father to compare the results to."

Looking a bit reluctant, Lenny asked, "What about Frank, the winner of the father sweepstakes? Where do you guys go from here?"

Carmine looked away. "I don't know yet. I mean, he knew for years, Lenny, since I was a baby! He waits until I'm thirty to tell me? In fact, he wouldn't have even told me now, would he, if it weren't for you pushing him into it. I guess," he paused, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I guess he didn't want me any more that Tony did."

"That's not true," said Frank, stepping back into the room.

"Isn't it?" demanded Carmine. "Then why, Frank? You tell me, after all these years, knowing that I was your own flesh and blood, why you never claimed me!" He jumped down off the table, swayed a little, and grabbed the edge for support.

Frank crossed the room quickly and took his arm to steady him. Carmine angrily pulled away. "Listen to me," said Frank, his voice unusually gentle. "I can explain."

"Explain what? Why you didn't take my mother away from Tony, knowing how he tortured her? That I can actually understand. You were married to Josephine, and happy with her and your daughter. I can forgive that." Carmine took a ragged breath. "What I can't understand is why you didn't take _me_? Even after Josephine died, when I was a teenager, it wasn't too late to get me away from that hateful man! I left home right after high school and you got me work, helped me get my life started – all the while you said _nothing_!"

"I said something today," said Frank, his eyes pleading. "You know the truth now."

"Now is too late," said Carmine, icily. "Now I'm my own man and I don't need a daddy anymore. The only thing I need from you, the last thing, is an answer. Why? Tell me why!"

Frank lowered his eyes, shoulders slumped as if in defeat. Lenny started to edge toward the door. "I don't think I belong here for this," he said, sidling out into the hall. "I'll just be…um…out here."

Carmine continued to glare at Frank. "Well?"

The older man cleared his throat a couple of times. Then he finally raised his eyes to meet Carmine's. "Okay. You got a right to know everything."

"Damn straight I do."

Nodding, Frank said, "I had an affair with your mother. We started out as friends. She'd come to me for help when Tony started getting drunk or pushin' her around, just to talk. I told her a million times to leave him, until one night, she told me she was ready. We started celebrating her freedom, and one thing led to another…."

Carmine turned away. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this after all.

"Yeah, well, anyway. It was just the one time and I was all torn up with guilt over betraying Josephine. I told Marie that it would never happen again, that if she was gonna leave Tony, she'd have to make a life for herself. I wouldn't be a part of it any more. I couldn't."

"Then she turned up pregnant."

"Yeah. Your mother was a beautiful woman with a lot of fine qualities, Carmine. But she wasn't very strong. She just couldn't bring herself to strike out on her own. And so she stayed with Tony and yeah, she soon found out she was pregnant. Tony must've done the math, because right away he started screamin' at her that you weren't his. She begged me to meet her at the local dance hall one evening after work, and she gave me that letter Helmut waved under your nose." Frank looked ashamed. "I was still young, Carmine, and I was scared. Scared I'd lose my wife and daughter, scared of what people would say."

"And all that mattered to you a lot more than what might happen to your mistress and bastard son!" snapped Carmine.

Frank shook his head. "I did my best to protect you. Your mother made me swear not to tell Tony that I was the father, figured she'd have an easier time convincing him to pass you off as his if he didn't know exactly who to blame. She used his own embarrassment against him, knowing he wouldn't want people to think he couldn't control his woman."

"Sounds like Tony."

"As for me, I never told Josephine. I always thought that I might, someday, but one day ran into another…it just got easier not to."

"It was that easy to turn your back on your son? You used to nag Laverne about not being a boy. All that time, you knew you had one." Carmine dropped his gaze to the floor. "I was nothing to you but a mistake, wasn't I? A reminder of a weak moment, not your child."

"No, that's not true. Carmine, look at me."

He raised his eyes reluctantly. The kind eyes, the smile behind the walrus mustache. They were all familiar, all comforting, or at least they had been. Now, it was like he was seeing Frank for the first time. He clenched his jaw and looked down again.

Frank reached over and cupped his chin in his hands, making him look up again. "You are absolutely everything I've ever wanted in a son. I'm proud of you, and I always was. What I did, lying all these years? I did to protect your mother and my wife, and my own self. But I especially did it for you."

"Oh, really?" Carmine tried to laugh but it came out wrong. "How do you figure?"

"I know how you felt about your mother. She was always the innocent victim to you, a madonna. I knew how it would hurt you to know differently. I also knew that everyone in the neighborhood would've treated you like garbage if they knew how you were conceived. The only way I could stay in your life at all was not to claim you. I couldn't be with your mother and I couldn't take you away from her – you were all she had. The most I could do was be a friend to you, help out here and there. Besides, if it was public knowledge, Tony'd have tossed you and Marie right out. This way, he had to keep you and at least give you a roof over your head, if nothing else."

Carmine felt tightness in his throat and chest, making it more and more difficult to speak. "What about after? When I was older and out on my own, close friends with your daughter – my own sister, dammit! Why not then?"

"I didn't think you'd understand," admitted Frank. "I didn't think Laverne would, either. So much time had already passed. I guess, I didn't want to see that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

"The one that's there now," said Frank sadly. "Betrayal, resentment…."

"Yeah, you got those right," muttered Carmine.

Frank nodded. He released Carmine's chin, then ran one hand through his curly hair. "I'm just a selfish old man, who didn't want his boy to hate him," he whispered. "It was easier for me to have you show me a son's affection without knowing who I really was, than to tell you the truth and lose you entirely. I'm sorry I let you down, Carmine. I'm sorry for everything." He bit his lower lip, then smiled regretfully and turned away.

Carmine watched him leave the room. Then he sank down to the floor and hugged his knees into his chest. He sat there, just staring at the door and feeling his heart ache for a long time. It didn't even occur to him until well after Frank left that he forgot to ask him to submit to a paternity test.

"Damn," he muttered, rising slowly to his feet and walking toward the nearby nurse's station. "Oh, well, at least I can ask the doctor to get started with me."

Lenny felt guilty for listening in on Frank and Carmine's private conversation, but he just couldn't help himself. Finally, when it got to be too much to take, he turned and walked down the hall of the hospital.

He decided to go up to the floor with the babies. His was due soon and it would cheer him up to peak through a window at a bunch of new, wiggly infants. He walked down several hallways, looking for directions to the newborns. He paused for a moment as he passed Tony Ragusa's room, spying a tall man with dark blond hair and a dark trenchcoat leaning against the wall. The man glanced up from the notebook he was writing in, his eyes shielded with sunglasses. He seemed to start at the sight of Lenny. Then he quickly turned and hurried off in the opposite direction down the hall.

"That was weird," Lenny said, watching him go. He continued on his way, but remained strangely distracted by the sight of the man. Why was he lurking outside Tony's room? He didn't look like a doctor. But besides that, there was something about him that was so strange, so familiar….

Before he could figure it out, Lenny caught sight of Frank stomping purposefully in the direction of Tony Ragusa's room. He hurried over to his father-in-law and said, "What are you doin', Pop?"

"I gotta have a little chat with Mr. Ragusa," he replied, his voice dangerously low. "A long overdue little chat."

"Okay, hold on just a second," said Lenny, concerned. "I know you're angry, and I know Carmine is too, but you don't wanna go and do somethin' that's gonna get you into trouble. That won't help either of you."

Frank took a deep breath, then slowly released it. "Lenny, you're a good boy. But you gotta stay out of this. I know what I'm doin'!"

"No, I don't think you do. I think you're mad and you wanna hurt the guy that hurt your son, but if you do this, you're the one whose gonna wind up hurting, and so will your son and your daughter. So for both their sakes, if not your own, please, Pop, please don't go in there!"

"You're right, Len. I do wanna nail the rat bastards that hurt my son." Frank eyed the door to Tony's room. "But not the way you think." He put his hand on Lenny's shoulder. "I got a little idea, my boy, and Tony's gonna be a part of it, whether he likes it or not."

"Pop…."

"Trust me, Len. Or at least, hear me out before you make a decision. In fact," added Frank, turning thoughtful. "Maybe you can even help me out."

Lenny thought hard, then said, "Okay. Lay it on me."

After leaving Lenny down the hall, Frank burst into Tony Ragusa's room.

"Frankie. You back again?" Tony looked even more pale and withered than he had earlier in the morning. Somehow, it didn't make Frank feel any sorrier for him.

"I got somethin' to tell you before you go to your eternal punishment," said Frank. "Somethin' that by all rights you shoulda known thirty years ago."

Tony was watching him with eyes like black marbles. "Go on."

"For years, I protected your family from you, but I finally realize that I didn't do enough. I chose to go along with Marie and lie to you and the rest of the world, tellin' myself it was the right thing to do to protect everyone involved." Frank shook his head vehemently. "If I'd have insisted on the truth, let the chips fall where they may, who knows what could have been? As it is, Marie wound up a wreck of her former self and Carmine missed years with a father who loved him."

Tony smirked. "Don't stop now, Frankie. Go on, let me have it."

Frank took a step closer to the bed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he spoke. "You suspected, right from the start, that Carmine wasn't your son."

"Pretty much," said Tony, his grin fading. "That's what I get for marrying a slut."

"What you didn't know is who his real father was. Marie begged me to keep that from you, out of fear and shame. But she's gone and your time's short, and our boy knows the truth. Now, so should you."

"'Our boy', Frankie?" Tony leaned forward slightly in his bed. "What you trying to tell me?"

His face inches above Tony's, Frank hissed, "He's _mine_, Tony. Carmine's my son!"

Tony just looked at him as though Frank had told him what the weather was like outside.

"Did you hear me, you rotten, bitter, waste of humanity? I had the affair with Marie. I gave her that boy. And God help me, I gave him to you, too."

Tony cleared his throat. "You done?"

Frank blinked, puzzled by Tony's complete disinterest.

"I see that you were expecting a better reaction. Maybe I should scream, clutch my heart, and keel over at this amazing revelation of your?" Tony gave a snort. "You think I didn't know it was you, Frankie? The way you always acted around my wife, my Marie? Always there, givin' her a shoulder to cry on, havin' her over to your place…please. You weren't exactly subtle."

"You…you knew?" asked Frank. "But, you never said…you didn't…?"

"What? Throw that lying tramp and the kid out? Pull you off the line at work and give you the thrashing you deserved?" Tony coughed, then said, "Oh, believe me, I considered it, Frankie. You don't know how close you came to bein' dumped in the lake. Back in the day, I had the connections…but no. That would've been too easy. I didn't want to let you off the hook, old buddy. I wanted to watch you squirm, day after day, year after year, knowin' that I had your son. Every Italian man wants a son to carry on his name, don't he? It must've killed you, knowin' yours would carry mine!"

He laughed. "Ever wonder why I let Carmine spend so much time at your place, Frankie? I'll tell ya. I wanted you to feel connected to your boy, just enough so that it hurt even more when he'd come home to me. I wanted you to be close, so close to a real father and son that you'd ache for it. I knew you'd never take that next step; that he'd always be just out of your reach. Tell me now, Frankie, 'cause I need some cheerin' up. Tell me how much it hurt you!"

Frank drew back a little. "It tore me apart inside," he admitted. "But not anymore, Tony. I took that next step, maybe too late, but I did it. He knows the truth now. So even if he can never forgive me, even if I lost the closeness we had, at least he's finally free of any obligation to you!"

"There's a lot to be said for that," said Carmine from the doorway. Frank turned and looked at the young man hopefully.

"You hear all that, boy?" asked Tony. He squinted a little. "What happened to your head?"

"As if you care," scoffed Carmine. He walked over to Frank's side, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Tony. "Congratulations. You're finally free to stop pretending that I'm yours. It must be a great relief, knowing that you'll never have to hear me call you dad again."

Tony shrugged. "You think so? You like your new daddy better, huh?"

Frank glanced at Carmine, who gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I sure do."

"Even though he's a liar and an adulterer?"

"At least he's not a wife beating, drunken child abuser!" snapped Carmine.

"Hey, I never laid a hand on you. Much. Only when you had it comin'." Tony shifted with difficulty in the bed.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I know I was never anything more to you than a reminder of what my mother did."

"Damn straight!" snarled Tony. "How'd you feel, if the kid you were raising belong to the guy your spouse cheated with? Would you be able to look at it with love? I doubt it!"

Frank saw Carmine cringe at this, but he held his ground. In a much calmer tone of voice, he said, "You know what? Right now, my wife is helping me raise a daughter that I fathered by a woman she despises. I cheated – maybe not on a spouse, but certainly on someone I loved – and that child is the result."

"You always was just like your mother," muttered Tony.

"Thank you, but that's not the point. The point is, Shirley not only let me bring this girl into our home, she encouraged it. Since then, she's been a wonderful, loving mother to her, treats her with respect and caring. This girl is already ten years old; not even a little baby that she's known from birth! So you're wrong, Dad…Tony…whatever. It is absolutely possible to love someone else's child and raise them as your own, even if they were born out of a mistake. It's just something _you_ weren't capable of."

Frank felt a surge of pride, but Tony simply shrugged and said, "That's real sweet, kid, and hey, I was kinda glad to have you. You were my opportunity to get back at Frankie. I knew that every time you ran to him, all sad because I gave your mamma a hard time, or pointed out what a loser you were, it made him suffer a little more. That almost made your existence worthwhile."

His hands tightening into fists, Frank took a menacing step toward the bed. Only Carmine's hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could make another move. "Don't waste your time," he said softly. "What he says doesn't matter now." Carmine drew closer to the bed and smiled down at Tony, his eyes utterly cold. "You can't hurt me, old man, not anymore. Spew your venom to the hospital walls, because I'm done with you. I've got the father I always wanted now, the father I deserved. From now on, you're nothing more to me than a bad memory." With that, he turned his back on Tony and walked out of the room.

"You see?" said Frank after Carmine was gone, pointing to the door. "You see what you threw away? Tell me, Tony, was it worth it, givin' up what you could have had with that boy just to punish his mother and me?"

Tony was glaring at the door. Without meeting Frank's eyes, he said, "Get out, Frankie. Our business is over."

"Almost," said Frank. He turned around, walked over to the door, and peered into the hallway. Empty. Then he shut the door and strode slowly back to Tony's bedside.

"Wh…what are you doing?" asked Tony, his voice trembling a little.

"You got your revenge on me, thirty years' worth," said Frank, cracking his knuckles. "Now it's my turn."


	5. Chapter 5

_Part 5: Here it is…the conclusion! Thanks to all who provided such lovely feedback – much appreciated!_

Lenny strolled past the nurse's station, looking for Carmine. He hoped he could remember Frank's plan clearly enough to explain it to him and get him to go along with it.

"Oh, it's you," said the doctor who had treated Carmine earlier, coming around the desk. "Do you know where your friend is?"

"Hi, doc. Nope, I was just looking for him myself. What's up?"

The doctor pulled out a folder. "I have his test results here. He seemed anxious about the outcome."

"Test results?" asked Lenny. "Oh, wait, you mean the paternity test?"

The doctor looked around, a somewhat embarrassed expression on his face. "I really shouldn't say, but since Mr. Ragusa obviously already told you what they were for, yes. These are the paternity test results."

"Wow, that was really fast," noted Lenny.

"Well, it helped that we already had the father's information noted down. So do you know where…?"

"Wait a minute," said Lenny, puzzled. "What do you mean, you already had the father's information? Didn't you just take the samples from Carmine and Frank?"

"From Carmine, yes," said the doctor. "But the father's data was already recorded upon admittance a few days ago."

Lenny's heart began to pound. "Upon admittance? No…that can't…that would mean…Tony's?"

The doctor's cheeks flushed a bit. "I can't give you your friend's results, they're up to him to share."

Lenny groaned. "You just did, though, didn't you? The only father he has that's been admitted to the hospital in the past few days was Tony Ragusa. Which means, Marie was wrong all those years ago…or she lied." Lenny smacked his forehead several times with the heel of his hand. "Carmine really _is_ Tony's son! Oh, geeze, this is gonna kill him. And Frank, the poor guy!"

"Yes, well," the doctor looked very uncomfortable. "When you seen the younger Mr. Ragusa, would you just tell him that these are ready?"

"Yeah, sure, doc. I'll tell him. I don't know how I'm gonna tell him, but I will." Lenny turned and wandered away, not paying attention to where he was going. He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut, how much worse would it be for Carmine and Frank? "All of the lies, all the revelations, all for nothing!" he grumbled. "This is so wrong, so very…."

Completely distracted, Lenny felt a jolt as he walked headlong into somebody. The somebody let out an "Omph!" and bounced off him, landing on the floor. Lenny looked down and saw that it was Squiggy.

"Hey!" exclaimed Squiggy, from the floor, looking very offended. "Watch where you're…Len? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Squig. Sorry about that." He held out his hand and pulled his buddy to his feet.

Squiggy looked at him in confusion. "What are you doin' all the way out here?"

"Look, I got no time to explain. I have to find Carmine and Frank." His eyes narrowed. "Say, what're you doin' here, anyway?"

"Actually, I'm lookin' for Carmine myself. I got some bones to pick with him!"

"What are you talkin' about?" asked Lenny.

"Carmine got into a tussle with my dad, Len. I gotta set him straight on that score." Squiggy tried to crack his knuckles, but they made no sound. He bent his fingers back and forth a few times, then gave up. "I mean, it'd be one thing if he went after that weasel what raised him, but my father…our father? He didn't do nothin' to deserve that!"

"Oh, really? Helmut actually had the gall to sic you on Carmine, after what he did? What did your dad do, Squig, ask you to finish the job?"

"Huh? He don't even know I'm here! What're you babbling about, anyway?"

"Look, Carmine may have lost his temper with your father, but he wound up in a whole lot worse shape for it. He's lucky he didn't break nothin', or worse!"

Squiggy looked completely flummoxed. "Will you please stop talkin' in riddles? You're makin' my head ache! Are you sayin' something's wrong with Carmine?"

"You really have no idea, do you," Lenny realized. He shook his head, then told Squiggy about finding Carmine in Tony's house at the foot of the stairs.

By the time he was finished, Squiggy's eyes were round like saucers. "So he is okay now, right?"

"He's fine, no thanks to your father!" Lenny sighed. "Or at least he will be, until I find him and totally wreck his life."

"Well, good. But as for my father bein' there when it happened?" Squiggy shook his head emphatically. "He'd never hurt nobody, especially not his own…hey, did Carmine tell you, by the way? 'Cause if he didn't, this is gonna come as quite a shock. I know it did to me. But Carmine's old man…."

"Wait. Just hold it right there," Lenny groaned. "Your father told you that Carmine's father ain't his father, right?"

"That's right. How did…."

"And he claimed that he is."

"Yeah! Ain't that a kick in the pants? Carmine and I are brothers! I guess I should've known, we got the same blood type and the same swarthy good looks."

"Let me save you some time here," offered Lenny. "Your father told you and Carmine that he had an affair with Marie Ragusa and that Carmine wasn't Tony's son, he was his. Except he completely made it up. It was Frank DeFazio that had the affair with Marie, and he was Carmine's real father. At least up until about five minutes ago, when apparently, he stopped being Carmine's real father and Tony turned out to be his real father after all."

Squiggy just stared at him. Then he said, "Oh, you have got to be kidding me! My father's scamming _again_?"

Lenny breathed a sigh of relief. No one understood him like Squiggy. "That's right. He did worse than that, Squig. He _was_ there when Carmine took that fall, probably even had something to do with it. But he was so keen on gettin' his hands on the bank account numbers at Tony's place, that he didn't call for help. He just stole 'em and ran off, leaving Carmine lying there out cold."

Squiggy looked miserable. "No! I told you, Len, you gotta be wrong about that. I mean, I can buy that he lied – he does that sometimes. But my father, he's not a killer! That's too far to go, even for him."

"Even if a whole lotta money is involved?" asked Lenny. "Squig, I'm real sorry to be dumpin' all this on you, but the facts are pretty damning. It may have started out an accident…but your dad left Carmine there on purpose."

Squiggy looked as though he'd been slapped. "That's why he didn't want me lookin' for Carmine after I picked him up. I guess he was just gonna wait around to hear if he made it or not, then come forward and play the grievin' father. Geeze, Len, I shoulda known it was all too good to be true. My father wantin' me to be part of something, all that dough comin', and gettin' a big brother who could kick everyone else's butt for me to boot." He made a fist with his right hand and punched the palm of his left. "Dammit! I really wanted it to be real this time!"

Lenny nodded sympathetically. "I know you must be all confused and hurt right now."

Squiggy shrugged. "So what else is new?"

"What's new is that you can do somethin' about it."

"Like what?"

"Your old man was using Carmine to get at the money in Tony's account By pretending to be Carmine's father, he must've figured Carmine would share his good fortune with his new family. But after Carmine got hurt, I guess he thought he could still claim it as one of his heirs, once Tony was gone, too."

"He's a crafty one," said Squiggy, without pride. "Crafty and patient, at least when it comes to a big score. I guess he figured Tony wasn't long for this world, and if he…if Carmine…geeze, I can't even say it."

"It's okay. Look, Frank 's got an idea on how we can make at least this much right for Carmine, but we're gonna need your help." Lenny studied his friend's sad face. "You up for this?"

"Sure, whatever," said Squiggy, dejectedly. "I ain't got much to lose."

"Even if it means helping to nail your own father to the wall?"

"Yeah. Even that." Squiggy's forehead wrinkled. "Maybe especially that!"

Lenny and Squiggy caught up with Carmine in the cafeteria, at which point Lenny filled him in on Frank's plot. The strange thing to Squiggy was that Len left out the whole part about Tony being Carmine's real father. Squiggy wondered why, but decided to play along and kept his trap shut about it, too.

Even more bizarre, Lenny looked up at one point and stared at some guy sitting nearby, all done up in a long dark coat. His expression darkened and he abruptly excused himself to follow the guy out of the cafeteria, leaving Squiggy to face Carmine alone across the cafeteria table.

"Soooo," said Squiggy, struggling for something to say.

"Yeah," said Carmine, drumming his fingertips on the table.

Squiggy cleared his throat. "I guess you must be pretty mad at me."

"Why?"

"Well, you know, my father jerkin' you around, tryin' to steal your inheritance, and almost killin' you."

"Oh, that?" said Carmine, with a sardonic smile. "Yeah, I suppose I am a little bit annoyed by all that. But none of it was your fault, Squig. You didn't know what your father was up to. Did you?"

"No! No way! I'm a lot of things, Carmine, but I ain't no thief or murderer. I swear…."

"Calm down, Squiggy," said Carmine with a sigh. "I believe you."

"I mean, I knew there was money involved, but I really believed him when he said you was my long-lost brother. I was even a little…um…." He broke off, tugging at the lock of hair on his forehead.

"A little…?"

Squiggy's shoulders slumped. "Happy about it. Okay? You satisfied? I was happy about it. I guess that's why I didn't ask too many questions."

Carmine raised his eyebrows slightly. "You were actually glad that I was your half-brother? Why?"

Stirring uncomfortably in his seat, Squiggy replied, "Well I know you think I'm pond scum, but, well, if we was related, you kinda would have to like me anyways. I mean, you can't choose your relatives, right, so you have to take 'em as they come."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Carmine frowned, then shook his head as if ridding himself of unpleasant thoughts. "Besides, what do you care what I think about you, Squig? You don't even like me."

"What makes you say that?" asked Squiggy, startled.

"Because it's true. I mean, you're not exactly subtle about how much you resent Lenny and I being friends."

"Well, yeah, but that's only because you took him away from me! Between you and that wife of his, he's got almost no time for me anymore." Squiggy took a breath. "Not that I blame you guys. I mean, how could you not like Len? He's…well…likeable."

Carmine nodded in agreement. "But that doesn't mean we took him away from you, Squig. Len's got more people in his life now that he's grown up a lot and gotten married. That doesn't mean you aren't still his best buddy."

"Aw, c'mon, you know that ain't true no more! You guys hang out way more than he and I do. And since you don't think I'm worth nothin', that means I see Len about zero of the time!" Squiggy was surprised at how angry he really was about all of it. He glared at Carmine, unable to stop the words from flowing. "If you had been my brother, you would've had to change your tune about me, let me hang out with you, treated me like a pal! But now…now I guess we're back where we always was. You're Mister Popular, and I'm Mister Nothing!"

Carmine looked genuinely surprised. "Squig, I don't think you're nothing. Do I really make you feel like that?"

"Yeah! You always have, since we was kids on the playground and you wouldn't pick me for kickball, except when you wanted to lob the ball at my head."

"Geeze, Squig, that's an awfully long time ago. I threw balls at lots of kids' heads back then. I was angry a lot." Carmine looked away. "I know it wasn't too nice of me to take it all out on you, or that Eraserhead guy, or anyone else I pushed around…but you can't possibly hold it against me now! Can you?" He returned his dark eyes to Squiggy's, who immediately shifted his gaze to the tabletop. "You do though, don't you?"

"It isn't just school stuff," said Squiggy, a little petulantly. "Even since we've been grown up, you've acted like I'm just a constant pain in your keister."

"Well, you usually are, Squig. Face it, you're a little hard to take sometimes."

"Maybe so, maybe so. But that don't mean I don't feel bad when someone doesn't like me." He paused, his eyes stinging. "It's bad enough my own mother can't hardly stand to have me around and my father only wants me when he thinks I can help him with a con job. But you guys, Lenny, Laverne, Shirley, and yeah, even you…you're supposed to be my friends. We've known each other for a lot of years now, been through some pretty wild stuff. That should all count for somethin', shouldn't it?"

Carmine was silent. He tapped the table a few more times, before responding. "I'm sorry."

"Come again?"

"I said, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I treated you bad when we were kids and I'm sorry I made you think I didn't like you since we've been adults."

"Do you really mean that?" asked Squiggy, his voice quieter than usual.

Carmine nodded, smiling thinly. "Yeah, I do. Look, we may not be brothers, Squig, but you're right. We've known each other for a long time now and we have a lot of people in common. I got to know Lenny a lot better over the past couple of years and it turns out that he's a really great guy. I know he still considers you his best friend and has a lot of respect for you, and that's gotta mean something, right?"

"It means Lenny should get to know more people," said Squiggy with a half-smile.

Carmine laughed. "Probably true. But I think it also means that if I gave you a chance, who knows? Maybe we could get along better, too. I'm willing to give it a try, if you are." He held out his hand across the table.

Squiggy stared at it as though it might hurt him. Then he reached out and grasped it. "I think you'd have been a pretty decent big brother, Carmine," he said, still feeling a little choked up.

"Thanks," said Carmine, giving his hand a firm shake. "I think you'd have been an okay little brother, too. Andy."

Squiggy nodded, releasing Carmine's hand. He sat back, waiting until he trusted himself to speak again. "So. Who do you think Len ran after all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. I saw that guy before, though, lurking outside Tony's room. I wonder what he wants?"

"Beats me." Squiggy glanced down at his wristwatch. "I gotta make the call now, I guess. To my father."

"Hey, thanks for doing this. I know it can't be easy for you."

"It's not," admitted Squiggy. "But you know what? I'm sick to death of Helmut Squigman waltzin' in and out of my life, yankin' my chain. I wish he wasn't my father neither, I really mean that."

"That's something I can definitely understand," said Carmine. "I've felt that way about Tony for years. 'Course now, I finally got my wish." He smiled. "I'm finally free of that soulless bastard. Now I've got a father I can actually be proud of, and who likes me as I am. That's pretty much the only thing that's made this day worth living through."

Squiggy felt a pang in his heart, seeing how genuinely happy Carmine was. No wonder Len didn't say anything, he thought. I'd rather chew glass than tell him the truth myself. "Um, so, you ready to get this show goin'?"

"Yeah," said Carmine, his smile fading. "You get 'our' father over here. I'll take care of the rest."

The door to Tony Ragusa's hospital room opened with a soft creaking sound. Carmine glanced up from his seat beside the bed and saw Helmut Squigman step into the room. His expression was an almost humorous mixture of hope and stark terror.

"Oh, good. You made it," said Carmine, rising to his feet.

Helmut took a step backward, leaning against the still open door. "Um, yeah. Andy said you, uh, wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. I sure did." Carmine swallowed hard, then added, "Dad."

Helmut's eyebrows arched. "Dad? You called me Dad."

Carmine shrugged. "What else should I call you. You are my father. Unless you'd prefer Pop or…."

"No, no," said Helmut, relaxing slightly. "Dad's just fine…son." He peered at Carmine closely. "So, you're okay now. That's, uh, good, yeah. Real good." He gave a crooked smile. "No hard feelings, huh?"

"Why should I have any hard feelings?" asked Carmine. He folded his arms casually. "The only weird thing is I can't recall what happened back at the house. I can only remember you telling me that you were my father, and showing me my mom's letter. After that, it's all a blank."

"No kiddin'. Well, there wasn't much else after that."

"No, no, apparently not. Squiggy filled me in, told me that you left and that sometime after that, I must've tripped and fallen down the stairs." His eyes narrowed. "Not one of my more graceful moments."

"Really? Andy said that, huh?" Helmut chuckled. He moved closer to Carmine. "Well, that's exactly what happened, or must've happened, since I was long gone before your little tumble. Why, when Andy told me about your accident, I was beside myself, son, just beside myself!"

"I bet."

Helmut peered around Carmine at the bed. Following his gaze, Carmine nodded. "Yep, that's Tony. He died about a half-hour ago. Guess his heart wasn't mending as well as it seemed after all. I was out of the room for awhile and when I came back, the doctor told me he suddenly passed."

"Well, well. That's a cryin' shame," said Helmut. He walked over to the bed, looked down at the shape under the blanket. "Sorry about this, kid. Guess you're a little sad."

Carmine heaved a sigh. "Eh. We weren't exactly close. Not like a real father and son, you know. I guess he couldn't get over that he wasn't my mother's true love."

"Right. Well, my boy, I've got some information that should cheer you up even more." Helmut reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to Carmine. "This here is the account numbers I told you about…oh, wait, you don't remember that conversation, do you?"

"No, but my brother told me all about them. So what are we supposed to do with those, now?"

"It's simple, real simple. All you got to do is send the death certificate to the bank, along with your i.d. showin' that you're Tony's sole heir. That'll allow you to access the money and bring it over to the States. Some of these banks, they can make these transfers real quiet-like, under the government radar, so you won't even get hit with taxes! You'll be one rich young man." Helmut ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. "There'll be plenty to take care of you and your little wifey, even enough left over for, say, anyone else you might like to share with."

"Really," said Carmine, pacing nonchalantly. "Just how much dough are we talking about, Dad?"

Helmut smiled broadly. "A half-million bucks."

Carmine stood stock-still. For a moment or two, he couldn't breathe. "A…did you say a…." he stammered.

"Half. Million. Dollars. Yessiree Bob!"

"Jesus Christ." Carmine reached out for the small chair and held onto it for support. "How in the hell did Tony make that much money?" He gave his head a brisk shake. "I had no idea he had it in him."

"Had what, kid? He was a crook."

"Yeah, and apparently, he was a genius at it! I mean, my God! The brains it must've taken to get that much dough."

Helmut looked irritated. "Don't be so impressed. It was me that was the real brains of the outfit! I'm the one that set up the whole scenario. All Tony did was find the patsy driver and hide the cash from the authorities when it all went south."

"No kidding," said Carmine, resting his chin in his hands. "Tell me about it, Dad. Tell me how you came up with this great scheme."

Helmut's expression was smug. "Tony and I, we was workin' at the can factory, same one most guys in town worked at back in the day. We worked the line, churnin' out cans that they used at a bunch of food processing plants – vegetables, tuna fish, juice – stuff like that. It was a job, but we wasn't gettin' rich doin' it. Now, you gotta remember, this was during Prohibition. Everyone and their father who had half a brain and a little ambition was bootlegging liquor." He leaned a little closer to Carmine. "I knew some people, you know," and he touched the tip of his nose with his fingertip. "They was lookin' for different ways to transport their booze, containers that no one would suspect had anything illegal in 'em."

"Like, cans?" Carmine suggested.

"That's right, like cans." Helmut stood up a little straighter. "Tony was the line foreman. He and I were buddies back then, so I went to him and asked for his help appropriatin' some cans, a few here, a few there, not so many that management would notice. At night, when the line was shut down and Tony was lockin' things up, I'd get the liquor from my associates, who had a still at that dance hall right near the factory. The one your mamma used to like so much. They'd bring the stuff over at night, through an underground tunnel connectin' the two joints, then Tony and I'd fill up the cans.

"I knew this loser from the fish packing plant across town, their driver who'd pick up the cans and bring 'em back to his plant in a truck. The guy never bothered to compare how many cans he was supposed to be pickin' up to how many we actually gave him. I'd load the truck, making sure I gave him an extra case. Then two. Then more." Helmut laughed. "This maroon, he used to actually complain to me that some of the boxes of supposedly-empty cans were overpacked, 'cause they was strainin' his back to unload!"

Carmine nodded. "Go on. What happened once this 'patsy' was back at the fish packing place?"

"A coupla wiseguys on the payroll would pick up the 'special' boxes of cans on their end. We had 'em marked, real subtle-like…again, my system…so they knew what to snag off the loadin' dock. And bam! Bootleggers had their booze, all neatly disguised and transported clean across town. It was a perfect scheme, my boy, flawless, and Tony and me? We were well compensated for our efforts." Helmut looked down at the body on the bed and his smile faded.

"Couldn't have been all that flawless," Carmine remarked. "Or you guys would've spent all that dough instead of stashing it in Switzerland."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't my fault, let me tell you!" snapped Helmut. "The authorities got wind of what was goin' on, somehow, and they started sniffin' around me and Tony. My associates, they hightailed it out of there, took down the still, and poof! No more income and only me and Tony left to take the fall."

His expression darkened. "Tony, the rat fink, comes to me and says he's gotta protect himself. He was engaged to your mamma at the time, and there was no way he was goin' to jail and missin' out on bein' with Marie. So he tells me that one of his goombah friends knows all about stashin' money out of the country, so's the authorities can't trace it. He tells me to give him all my share and then sticks the whole kit'n'kaboodle in a Swiss account. What he neglected to mention was that only he would have the account number and passcode, only he or one of his survivor's could use that info to get at the money. The lyin', cheatin', thievin', son of a…."

"So he was never arrested?"

"Nope. Credit where credit's due, he kept us both out of the clink. When the cops questioned us, they came up empty – no evidence tyin' us to nothin.'. But they kept tabs on Tony and me for years, boyo. They were hopin' one or the other would go for the cash and then they could finally get us. It's one of the reasons I didn't stick around town much; I couldn't get any other deals cookin' with the police always lookin' over my shoulder."

"So Tony hid the money, from you and the authorities, but he couldn't touch it." Carmine shook his head. "Thirty plus years of interest and he had a fortune, but it may as well have been treasure at the end of a rainbow. He never enjoyed a dime."

"Me, neither," groused Helmut. "I went to him, a few times over the decades, tryin' to convince him to pass me a little here, a little there, but he wouldn't do it. He was so afraid of goin' to the slammer." He sighed. "Oh, well. It don't matter anymore. Tony's in hell and you're gonna get it all. I can only hope, my dear sonny boy, that you'll find it in your heart to compensate an old man for his share of the booty."

Carmine slowly rose to his feet. "What makes you think that I can get that money without the cops moving in now?"

Helmut grinned, his eyes shiny. "Because they ain't after you. _You_ never committed a crime. I checked into it, real good, and that dough is yours to inherit, free and clear of any chance of prosecution. Besides, the statute of limitation has run out by now, so whatever you deem fair to share with me and your little brother, the cops can't use it to get me, neither. It's perfect, sonny. Perfect!"

"Wow." Carmine shook his head and chuckled, without humor. "That's a truly amazing little story, Helmut. I'm really glad you shared it with us."

"Yeah, I…wait a minute." Helmut's grin faded. "Us?" He glanced around the room. "What us? There's only you and me in here. Oh, and the corpse."

"Watch who yer callin' a corpse, Squigman," said Tony, throwing back the blanket that had covered him from head to toe. He took a deep gulp of air. "Christ, took you long enough to cough it all out! I almost suffocated in there!"

Carmine rolled his eyes. "No one said undercover work was easy. You heard it all?"

"Every last word."

Helmut looked down at Tony, stunned, then glanced over at Carmine. "What…what the hell is goin' on here? What is this?"

"This is you, confessing in front of witnesses," said Carmine. "You're in big trouble, _Daddy_!"

"I…what? Huh?" He started to back out the door. "I don't know what you guys think you're up to, but…."

"Goin' somewhere, Dad?" asked Squiggy, stepping into the doorway, effectively cutting off Helmut's exit.

"Andy!" Helmut looked relieved. "Thank God you're here, son. Your brother here, he's tryin' to pull somethin'."

"Oh, really," sneered Squiggy. "So that whole little tale you just told, what was that, a bedtime story you made up?"

"No, no…wait. I mean, yeah. Right, I just made all that up! Ha, ha…never happened." He looked over at Carmine and Tony, hopefully.

Carmine strode over to Helmut and yanked the piece of paper away that was still clasped in his hand. "Oh, so then I guess when I use these, nothing will happen."

Helmut's face fell. "That don't necessarily prove nothin'. I mean, that dough's in Tony's name, not mine. Say, why you doin' this, Carmine? You're my own flesh and blood!"

"Don't make me sick!" snarled Carmine, shoving Helmut back against the wall. "There ain't nothing tying me to you, you lying sack of…."

"Carmine!" warned Frank, coming into the room. "Don't do it, son. Let the authorities take care him, they'll give him what he deserves."

"What do you have to do with any of this anyway, Frankie?" asked Helmut, glaring at him over Carmine's shoulder. He shoved the younger man out of his way and advanced on Frank. "You weren't involved in any of this, back in the day."

"No, no I wasn't. I just did my job and went home, just like most decent, hard-workin' folks in that factory." He stood toe to toe with Helmut. "I'll tell ya what I got to do with this!" He grabbed Helmut with one, large hand and used the other to search his pockets, until he found a crumpled piece of stationery. Withdrawing it, he released Helmut and walked with it over to Carmine. "Is this it?"

Carmine glanced at the letter and nodded. "Yeah. That's my mother's letter."

Helmut visibly paled. "Hey, Frankie, about that. I was tryin' to do you and Marie a favor, you know, pickin' that up after you dropped it in the dance hall. You ran out and then she ran out…anyone could've found it."

"But they didn't, 'cause you took it," said Frank. He moved closer to Helmut again, who backpedaled until he was pressed up against the wall. "So why'd ya keep it all these years? What good was it to you?"

"He showed it to me," said Tony. "Gave it to me as proof that Marie was cheatin'. He knew I suspected, just wasn't sure who the lucky fella was. Helmut's the one that told me it was you, Frankie."

Frank's jaw clenched. "You spineless, backstabbin' son of a bitch! Why? What was in it for you?"

"I…I don't really know," Helmut confessed. "I really had the hots for Marie at one time, but she was always distracted by Tony. And you, I guess."

"Meanin' she wouldn't waste the time of day on you, as much as you sniffed around her like a dog in heat," Tony snorted. "Even my slut wife had her standards!"

Helmut's face flushed. "It had to be the dough. Knowin' you had it and I didn't – why else would she choose you over me? Anyway, then I saw your little scene, Frankie, and I got curious. After I read what she'd written to you? I don't know. I guess I was a little jealous, so I decided to go to Tony, get back at her a little."

"And then what? You just kept the note as a souvenir?" asked Frank.

Helmut hung his head. "I just wanted to have somethin' of hers, that's all."

"You're completely pathetic," said Carmine.

"Yeah, well, maybe so. But it sure came in handy when I heard about Tony's little heart attack. I worked out this whole scheme and that letter there, that was my piece de resistance, as they say." He gave Carmine a nasty look. "Sure convinced you, didn't it, smart guy?"

"For about five minutes. Even if Frank hadn't told me the truth, your leaving me to die back at the house made it perfectly clear I wasn't your son!" Carmine looked at him in disgust. "No one would do that to their own kid! Hell, no decent human being would do that to a stranger!"

"Oh, so your little memory problem cleared up, huh?" Helmut shrugged. "Hey, it ain't like I set out to kill ya, pal. But when opportunity knocks…."

Squiggy looked horrified. "You really did it, didn't you. You…geeze, just when I think I can't be any more ashamed of you, congratulations! You just took low to a whole new level of lowness!"

Helmut looked at each of them, then spat on the floor. "Screw you all. What've you got on me? No one can prove I intentionally did anything to Carmine! As for his not bein' my son, hey, the letter wasn't specific. It could've been an honest misunderstanding on my part, seeing as Marie's not around to confirm or deny any relationship we may have had. And as for the rest of it, the statute of limitation ran out, so who cares?"

"Oh, there's someone left who cares," said a steely voice from the doorway. The tall man in the trenchcoat walked through the door, with Lenny right behind him. He removed his dark glasses and slipped them neatly into his pocket.

"Besides," added Lenny. "It ain't exactly the cops we're turnin' you into."

"It's not?" Helmut looked slightly relieved. "Who else is there?"

"Yeah, Len," said Carmine, equally confused. "I thought that's who you were bringing."

"No. I'm afraid Helmut's right about that statute of limitation running out. Fortunately, Lenny caught up with me, instead." The tall man gave Helmut a wicked grin, his dark blue eyes twinkling. Carmine looked at him closely for the first time, and realized how much he and Lenny resembled one another.

"And you are?" asked Frank, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Name's Stanley Kosnowski."

"Stanley…Kosnowski?" Squiggy's eyes widened. "That's Lenny's father's name!"

"That _is_ Lenny's father," said Carmine, nodding in realization. "But what's he got to do with all this?"

"Kosnowski? Oh, you have _got_ to be kiddin' me," groaned Helmut, burying his face in his hands.

"Yeah," demanded Tony. "What kinda cop are you supposed to be?"

"No kind." Stanley reached into his pocket, withdrew a badge, and advanced on Helmut. "I'm something much, much worse." He winked. "I'm the IRS."

Helmut Squigman was handcuffed and led away by another federal agent Stanley Kosnowski had waiting in the hallway. Squiggy watched him go, ignoring his pleas for assistance, until he was out of sight. Then, without looking at anyone, he mumbled something about going to the cafeteria and slunk off. After he left, Stanley leaned against the wall of Tony's room and explained to Lenny, Carmine, Tony, and Frank just what had been going on.

"I don't believe it," said Tony when he had finished.

"I'm still findin' it hard to believe myself," replied Lenny with a proud grin.

"You are telling me that you, Stanley Kosnowski, a driver for a fish packing plant, went on to become a G-man?" Tony shook his head. "No damn way. You barely had the brains to handle that truck!"

Stanley gave Tony an icy look. "I know, it was a big career change. But back when I drivin' for Pfister Fish Packing, you and Helmut conned me into getting involved in some dirty goings-on. Oh, it took me a little while to figure it out, Tony, but I did. Ever wonder who ratted you guys out to the cops?"

Tony glared at him, but said nothing.

"It always bugged me that they weren't able to put you away. For years, I thought about how crooks like you were running around, using innocent people, and getting away with it. Finally, after my kids were out on their own, I decided to do something about it." He smiled. "I used my old connections from when I informed on you and found out about a government opportunity. I was hoping for FBI, but the IRS had an opening for an investigator, so I took that. Turned out I had a knack for tracking down bad guys."

"So my father had a secret, too." Lenny clapped him on the back. "But at least his was really, really cool!"

"I've had a decent career, but you two, Tony? You were the ones that got away. I knew the statute had run out on your crimes, but I also knew that I could still nail you for tax evasion, assuming you still had all that money the wiseguys paid you. Fortunately for me, you were as crafty as I gave you credit for."

"That's assumin' I let you get at that account," snarled Tony. "Since I ain't dead, the boy here ain't gettin' access. It's all still mine."

"Except for one thing," said Carmine. "I still have the numbers." He turned and handed the paper Helmut had given him over to Stanley. "These should be all you need."

"Why, you ungrateful…." began Tony, nearly rising from his bed.

"Shut up!" snapped Frank. "Just you shut up!"

"Hey, I did what you asked, Frankie. I played my part in sendin' Helmut behind bars for hurtin' the boy there." He settled back on the bed. "I was doin' you a favor, Carmine, in case you already forgot, and this is how you thank me!"

Carmine didn't even look at him. "Thanks. So, Agent Kosnowski, is that all you need? Because if it is, I'd like to get out of this room now."

"Sure, sure. Thanks for all your help," said Stanley. Carmine nodded, then headed out into the hallway.

"So," said Tony, the defiance in his voice betrayed by the naked fear in his eyes. "You gonna haul me outta my deathbed and off to a prison cell, Kosnowski?"

"Tempting though that is," Stanley replied. "No. The doctors won't release you just yet, they say in your condition, you probably wouldn't survive being handcuffed, let alone incarcerated." He smiled cheerily. "But don't worry, I can wait until you've recovered. I'm nothing if not patient."

"Obviously," said Frank, with a touch of admiration in his voice. Tony just muttered something under his breath and looked away.

"Wow, all that dough, and he's not gonna ever get a red cent?" asked Lenny. "That's gotta almost be punishment enough."

"Almost," said Stanley. His smile faded a bit. "Unfortunately, he'll still get some. Now that the criminal statute's out, all the government can seize is what he owes in back taxes. A chunk will be left over that actually belongs to Tony…and Helmut, I suppose, although that's up to the two of them to duke out."

"Like I ever meant to give that lowlife excuse for a partner a dime," grumbled Tony.

"Yeah, well, don't worry, son," said Stanley, winking at Lenny. "Whatever he gets will probably go to lawyers anyway."

It's too bad it won't go to Carmine anymore, Lenny thought. At least he'd be getting something for all this. Lenny stiffened, realizing all of a sudden that he had never gotten the chance to tell Carmine about the paternity test results. After he had run out of the cafeteria and caught up with the man who turned out to be his own father, he'd totally forgotten about everything else.

"I gotta step out for a minute," Lenny said hastily.

But before he could get to the door, Carmine came back into the room. One look at his face told Lenny he was too late. "Carmine," he began.

"I need to speak to…to Tony. Alone," said Carmine, in an unusually subdued tone. "Can you all excuse us for a little while?"

Frank looked at him. "You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Carmine responded, his eyes fixed on the middle of the floor. "Please, I just need a minute. Is that okay?"

Lenny glanced over at his father, who shrugged. "Sure. It ain't like Tony's going anywhere. At least," he added, wagging a finger at the older man. "Not today."

They filed out. Lenny paused as he passed Carmine and whispered, "I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you myself…."

Carmine's sad, dark eyes met his and Lenny felt his own heart sink in sympathy. He nodded once, apologetically, then continued on out the door. A moment later, he watched the door close.

"What do you suppose that's all about?" asked Frank. "I thought he was through with Tony."

Lenny wondered if he should say anything to his father-in-law, but decided against it. At this point, it was Carmine's choice how and when to break the news to him. So he simply replied, "Dunno. Maybe he wants to say goodbye."

"Maybe. Say, how's Squiggy doin'? He didn't go with his dad, did he?"

"Oh, no. I think Squig's finally all done with his poor excuse for a father. Naw, he went to the cafeteria, probably for a shot of milk and Bosco. It always cheers him up."

"So do you," said Frank, pointedly.

"Yeah. You're right. Maybe I oughta join him." Lenny turned to his father. "So, Pappa, you gonna be stickin' around Milwaukee until Tony's ready to go to the Big House?"

"You bet, son. I wouldn't miss this for the world. Besides, this is pretty much it for me, my last big job. I'm retiring in a few months."

"No kidding?" Lenny looked at him hopefully. "Does that mean you might actually find some time to fly out to California and meet my wife and the new baby that'll be here around that time?"

Stanley clapped his on the shoulder affectionately. "Consider it a done deal. I'm sorry I missed your wedding, and I haven't been much in contact with you since I joined the service. Most of my work was undercover, traveling a lot…."

"I understand," said Lenny. "I'm just glad it wasn't personal."

"Of course not!" Stanley gave him a big bear hug that made Lenny gasp. "You're my boy, Len, and I love you. Besides." He winked. "There may be one last, little, personal investigation with which you could help me out, if you're interested."

"Really?" Lenny felt a surge of joy. "That'd be great! What is it? When does it start? I don't know how much time I'll have, what with my security job and the new baby, but I'm sure I can…."

"Relax, calm down," laughed his father. "Don't worry, there's plenty of time. We'll have all the time we need."

Lenny nodded, then started to feel a little guilty. Here he was, all happy that his Pappa was back in his life, and meanwhile, his two closest buddies had just gotten their hearts ripped out by their fathers. He glanced at the closed hospital room door one last time and sighed. There wasn't anything he could do for Carmine, not right now at least. But Squiggy was a different story. With a quick farewell to his father and Frank, Lenny turned and headed off toward the cafeteria.

"So, what is it, boy? Wanted one last chance to gloat?" asked Tony after Carmine had shut the door.

Carmine shook his head. He reached under his jacket and withdrew a folder, then tossed it onto the bed. "Trust me, this is nothing that would make me gloat."

"What is it?" Tony picked up the file in his shaking hands and looked inside. Carmine watched his expression become puzzled as he read. "Paternity test? What in the hell?" He looked up at Carmine, eyebrows knit together. "You want to rub my face in the fact that Frankie's your daddy? Trust me, I've been chokin' on that one for thirty years! I don't need…."

"Will you just read the whole thing?" interrupted Carmine wearily.

Tony glared at him, then returned to reading the results. Carmine waited until he saw his eyes widen in shock. "Wait a minute. This says…is this sayin' what I think it's sayin'?"

"Yeah. Congratulations, you're my father. Always have been." Carmine paused, nearly choking on his words. "Always will be."

"Dear God," murmured Tony. "How can this be? Marie told me…the timing…."

"Oh, come off it," snapped Carmine. "Didn't it ever occur to you that that it was possible I was yours? You were married, for God's sakes, you were _with_ my mother back then! How accurately was anyone able to pinpoint conception thirty years ago, Dad?"

"The letter…Helmut showed me her letter to Frankie!" Tony was shaking his head. "She admitted it, boy, she was with him, too…she must've lied…."

"Or she was just plain wrong. It doesn't matter, now. Here's your proof, finally, that I am your son, not Frank's, not anyone else's. Yours." Carmine took a deep breath. "So, how's that make you feel, knowing you used your own child, not Frank's, but your very own child as a tool for revenge?"

Tony looked as though he might throw up. He was trembling all over now. "Carmine…I…I can't believe it." He looked up, his dark eyes haunted. "You're mine. You were mine, all along. All these years…my son…."

"Oh, so now I'm your son?" Carmine snorted. "One little test and poof! I mean something to you now? I was with you since birth, lived under your roof for umpteen years, and that meant nothing. Suddenly, with one piece of paper, I'm your son." He strode over to the bed and leaned over Tony, his face right above the older man's. "Well guess what, Dad? It doesn't change one damn thing for me! You're nothing to me, not now, and you never will be!"

"Don't say that, boy," whispered Tony, reaching up to touch his face. Carmine pulled back in disgust. "Carmine, don't you see? This changes everything! Now that I know you're not just some bastard…c'mon, you have to understand." He coughed, then cleared his throat. "I loved your mamma back then and when Helmut confirmed what I already suspected, that she was cheatin' on me, well, somethin' in me just snapped. The only thing that kept me together at all was revenge – plannin' it, makin' it happen day after day. Seein' her suffer, and Frankie…."

"…and don't forget me," growled Carmine, turning away. "I wish to everything holy that Frank was my father. That's been the only good part of this whole, miserable day. But you know what? Even though he isn't by biology, he still is and has always been the father I never had." He walked over to the door.

"Wait!" cried Tony, rearing up in the bed, then falling back again weakly. "Wait, son! Don't go! It's not too late, it doesn't have to be! I've always cared a little, in spite of it all! Why'd you think I went along with Frankie today, or sent you your mamma's ring…."

"Save it," said Carmine, his hand on the doorknob. "I just wanted you to know, for whatever time you got left on this Earth, that you destroyed an entire lifetime we could have had together as a real father and son for _nothing_. Your revenge was worthless, because it was all based on a mistake. I will continue to love and respect Frank like he was my father and I'll get the same in return from him. He'll get to enjoy my daughter and any other children I have as if they were part of his own family. As for you, you chose a long time ago not to be my father, so..."

"Carmine!" Tony's voice was barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Goodbye," said Carmine. He opened the door and walked out of the room, then closed it behind him. He waited for a moment, his forehead resting against the door, listening to the frustrated cries from within. Then he straightened his shoulders and walked away, knowing it was for the last time.

It was a long plane ride home. Lenny sat next to Squiggy, Frank beside Carmine. Listening in, it quickly became clear to Lenny that Carmine had not told Frank the truth yet. A little troubled by this, he tapped Carmine on the shoulder. "Can I borrow you a sec?"

Carmine rose to his feet and followed Lenny to the back of the plane. "What's up, Len?"

"You didn't tell Frank yet, did you? About the paternity test…and Tony bein' your father after all. Why?"

"First of all, Tony's not my father. Oh, yeah, I know, biology says otherwise, but what's that worth?" Carmine sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna lie to Frank, as much as I'd like to let him go on believing I'm his son by blood. Maybe if Laverne wasn't in the picture…but I can't blow apart her world over something that's simply not true."

"Oh, good. I was really hopin' you'd see it that way." Lenny grinned, relieved.

"I just want to let him have a few more hours, you know? He's been so happy about it." Carmine looked over at Frank with a sad smile. "And I guess I'd like it to be real for the rest of this trip, too. It's all I've got left, Len."

Lenny swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "Okay. Don't worry, I won't say a word."

"Thanks." Carmine cleared his throat, then said, "So how's Squig doing? He's been awfully quiet this whole trip, and unusually awake."

"I know. I tried to talk to him about all of it, but he's hardly said two words. I don't know what else to do for him, he feels so rotten."

"Let me try," offered Carmine.

"Huh? Really?"

"Yeah, really." Carmine shrugged. "I can't make it any worse, can I?"

"No," said Lenny, a bit uncertainly. "Um, you sure you want to spend time with Squig voluntarily?"

"He isn't that bad."

"No, he's really not. I've been tellin' everyone that for years."

"Besides," added Carmine with a wry grin. "We _were_ almost siblings

Lenny nodded. "Sure, give it a shot. I'll switch seats with you for awhile."

They went back and sat down in each other's seats. Squiggy looked at Carmine with surprise. "What're you doin'?"

"Nothing. Just thought you might want to talk. Or not, that's okay, too." Carmine settled into the seat and waited.

Staring at his shoes, Squiggy said, "Why would you want to talk to me? I'm just the guy whose old man tried to ruin your life."

"Oh, well, my old man – Tony I mean – he tried to do that long before you or Helmut came into the picture. You could say I'm used to it."

"Yeah, but you had to get used to it because of Helmut. He's the one what exposed your mother's little affair with Frank in the first place. Pretty much, all the misery you went through growin' up was because of my daddy." He shook his head sadly. "I always knew, deep inside, that he was bad, Carmine. But he turned out to be worse than I ever imagined."

Carmine nodded. "That can be a hard thing to see in your own father. Believe me, I do understand."

"Yeah, but, what does that mean I am?" whispered Squiggy. "What's the son of a creep bound to be but another creep? At least in your case, your real dad is a great guy. There's hope for you."

Carmine flinched at this. He thought for a minute, then said, "Squig, I think there's more to a person than their parents. You are your own man, not just Helmut Squigman's son. There's more to you than that, just like there's more to me than Tony. There has to be."

"Oh, yeah? Like what, in my case? My mother ain't much more of a prize than Helmut, and my sister, well, she's just kinda in her own world. Who else is there?"

"There's your friends," said Carmine. "The people you choose to be around you says a lot about who you really are. I'd like to think we're all pretty decent folks."

"Yeah, you're all okay, I guess."

"And what about the lady in your life? Rhonda's a good person, if a little…well…she's a good person. She really seems to like you, Squig. You think she'd be interested in a guy like Helmut?"

"Ech, Carmine, that's just sick! I…oh." Squiggy paused, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Oh, I see what you're sayin'. I guess if I was just like my father, no, she wouldn't have never given me the time of day."

"There you go," said Carmine. "Look, I've made some bad moves in my life and yeah, I can blame Tony for some of them. But I'm also married to a wonderful woman and am raising a beautiful daughter with her, and doing pretty well as a father, if I do say so myself. If it was all about inheritance, there's no way any of that would be true."

Squiggy looked at him, a hopeful expression replacing the look of despair he'd worn most of the evening. "So you're sayin' I ain't destined to be pond scum forever?"

"I'm saying you never were. Take it from me, your almost big brother." Carmine grinned. "Leave Helmut where he belongs, in your past. Move on, live your life, and don't be him. Be you."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, Carmine. I'll give that a try." He smiled. "Thanks. You know, you're a pretty okay guy when you're not throwin' things at my head."

"You're welcome. Does this mean you don't mind sharing Lenny with me anymore?"

Squiggy looked thoughtful. Then he said, "I guess I don't mind, so long as you don't hog him."

"Deal." Carmine looked at the backs of Lenny and Frank's heads. They were talking excitedly about the baby, wondering if he'd be a baseball or football player. He felt a pang as he wondered whether Tony had ever had such a conversation with a friend before he was born.

Pushing the thought aside, Carmine stared out the window. Time to take my own advice and leave the past – and Tony – where they belong. It really doesn't matter who my father is, it matters who I am. He pressed his hand against the window and closed his eyes. And maybe if I say that to myself often enough, someday I'll actually believe it.

-END-


End file.
